


The dreams that you dare to dream

by songs of hisai-shi (amerain)



Series: Nozomi Chime [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Bokushi, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Extra Game Spoilers, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Last Game Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerain/pseuds/songs%20of%20hisai-shi
Summary: In the week of the game against Jabberwock, there’s an issue Akashi must address, a shift in his relationship with Furihata, and a discovery about his other self.A sequel to "hoping for today, dreaming of tomorrow".
Relationships: Akashi Seijuurou & Akashi Seijuurou, Akashi Seijuurou/Furihata Kouki
Series: Nozomi Chime [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787986
Comments: 36
Kudos: 134





	1. I wanna hurry home to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, to everyone who has read the previous fic: thank you! It means a lot that you enjoyed that story. <3
> 
> So, when I wrote “hoping for today”, it was supposed to be just an oneshot. But then an idea for a sequel came, and it went totally out of control. XD
> 
> This fic is set in Last Game (movie). But there’re some things I took from Extra Game (manga) – like the conversation between Akashi and Miragen, which is referenced in this chapter.
> 
> Now, some **warnings** : this fic contains depictions of DID. Though I did some research, I mostly stick with what the KnB canon showed us - which isn’t completely accurate, as you know. But I hope I could portray that disorder in a respectful manner. Besides, there’s a minor reference or implication of emotional abuse/negligence of a child (but only in this chapter).
> 
> About the words “tadaima” and “okaeri”: basically, they mean _“I’m home”_ and _“welcome home”_ respectively, and convey _“a warm feeling that someone has been waiting for one’s safe return.”_ You can read more about them [here](https://cotoacademy.com/ittekimasu/).
> 
> Title and verses from the song “Over The Rainbow” (my favorite version is Frank Sinatra’s). The chapter titles come from “Slow Show,” by The National. And, finally, there’s a little nod to Bump of Chicken’s “Dandelion.” Yep, I know: too many songs, no self-control. XD And that’s it for notes, I swear. Haha Enjoy!

_"Somewhere over the rainbow  
Skies are blue  
And the dreams that you dare to dream  
Really do come true”_

_“Don’t cry.”_

_You lowered your small hands and finally looked up at me, eyes still moist with tears._

_It was not the first time you had heard me, but it was the first you could see me. The realization of it shocked us both, for an instant._

_You asked, “Who are you?”_

_To have a shape was baffling. I tried to speak, and opened my mouth._

_“I am…”_

_A shadow._

_A reflection._

_A part of you._

_(There were other answers to your question. One could call me a disorder. Others, in their ignorance, could even view me as a signal of insanity._

_Years later, you would call me “brother”.)_

_“…I’m Akashi Seijuurou, of course,” I answered, and pressed a finger against your chest. “I’m you.”_

_You blinked._

_“Your left eye…” you said, in awe, in a time when you still didn’t know how to hide your emotions, “… is golden. It’s so beautiful.”_

_‘So we have a difference?’ I thought, curious, looking at your red eyes. Something to investigate later. But there were matters more urgent at that moment._

_I wiped your tears with my fingers. You blinked again._

_“Don’t cry,” I said. “And don’t make me repeat myself.”_

_I took your hand, and you finally stopped crying._

_“It’s okay. You will never be alone.”_

-

“Good evening, Coach, Momoi-san!” Furihata says, as he enters the court of the gym where the training of Vorpal Swords has been taking place.

Riko and Momoi greet him, with a smile. The two girls are the only ones on the court at the moment. Kagetora is nowhere to be seen, and the team must be taking a shower.

“So how was the training today? You guys can’t slack off, only because I’m not there, you hear me,” Riko says, in a treating tone, fists on her waist. “I’ll know if any of you didn’t train this week.”

Furihata shudders just imagining what would be of him and his teammates, if they didn’t know any better. He reassures, cold sweat on his skin and a sheepish smile on his mouth, “D-Don’t worry, Coach, we’re following the training regimen!”

Riko gives him a satisfied nod. Momoi laughs, “Riko-san, you should stop bullying Furihata-kun!”

“My love is tough,” Riko declares, grinning, a hand on her chest. “And since we’re talking about love… You arrived at the right time, Furihata-kun. _Again._ The boys must be finishing hitting the shower and changing… Akashi-kun will go out at any minute.”

Furihata’s cheeks burn red at the teasing. Ever since he had told his team that he was dating Akashi, and had answered their questions about how long (a month, at that time), how (they had befriended at Kuroko’s birthday party and, after some months, had decided to date), if he was really in love with Akashi (he couldn’t answer anymore, and his face was the color of Kagami and Akashi’s hair at that point of the conversation), they would tease Furihata about it, once in a while.

(“We’re on our way to forgive you for not telling us before, Furi,” Kawahara told him, patting his shoulder.

Furihata wondered about that.

To Furihata’s eternal mortification, after he’d told them, all of his teammates, plus Kiyoshi on the Skype, sat down with Akashi at Maji Burger, asking what his intentions towards their Furihata were.

“The best, I assure you,” Akashi answered, seriously. “I wish for a long-term relationship with Furihata-kun.”

Furihata had thought it wouldn’t be possible, but his flush deepened.

His teammates stared at Akashi, arms crossed. After a whole excruciating minute, they exchanged gazes, and finally nodded their approval.

“The Seirin court approves your courtship of Furihata-kun,” Izuki declared, giving their final verdict.

They denied that the episode was teasing. _We’re just taking care of you_ , they said, at that time. Furihata didn’t believe them.)

“Oh, speaking of the devil,” Riko says, bringing Furihata back to the present.

“Furihata-kun.”

His heart skips a beat, as he turns around. Akashi walks into his direction, carrying his sports bag on his shoulder, a smile on his lips.

“I apologize,” Akashi says, when he gets closer. “Did you wait for too long?”

“No, I just arrived, too,” Furihata answers, with a smile of his own. But after a few seconds, his smile falters, as he notices something off about Akashi’s features. Like his head is somewhere else, in deep thought. Maybe Akashi is just tired, or maybe he’s still thinking of strategies to be used in the upcoming game, but... He grabs Akashi’s hoodie, trying to anchor the other, and when he opens his mouth to ask–

“Heh. So that’s why Akashi was in such a hurry.” Aomine is also heading to where they are, the bag handle lazily hanged on his shoulders. Kuroko and Kagami walk behind the dark-skinned boy.

“A-ah! G-Good evening, Aomine-kun,” Furihata says, embarrassed and in the lack of a better answer, and waves to his teammates, who greet him back.

“Yeah, ‘evening for you too, Chihua-“ Aomine stops, gulping at the glare Akashi sends in his direction. Furihata notices this right away and whispers to his boyfriend, in reproach, _“Akashi-kun!”_ The redhead has never liked anyone calling Furihata a Chihuahua, even though he tells Akashi that it doesn’t bother him at all. Akashi just smiles at Furihata, as Aomine finishes, lamely, “Er, I mean, evening, Furihata.”

Momoi giggles, but it is Kagami’s laugh that echoes through the gymnasium. “Yeah, Akashi, put Aomine in his place!”

A vein appears on Aomine’s brow. “You wanna fight, Bakagami?”

“What?! Bring it on, Ahomine!”

“Ah…” Furihata looks between the two aces, unsure of what to do.

“Don’t worry, Furihata-kun,” Kuroko says, in his usual deadpan tone. “Soon they’ll get tired. We can just leave them be.”

“Are you sure, Kuroko?” Furihata asks, as he sees Aomine and Kagami grabbing the collar of each other’s T-shirts.

A hand takes his, fingers fitting easily in the space between Furihata’s fingers.

“I agree with Kuroko. We should go home,” Akashi says, the corner of his lips curved upwards, making Furihata forget about everything else, for a second. Furihata repeats, in his mind, that word Akashi just let escape, _home_ , and warmth blooms inside of him.

They say goodbye to Riko, Momoi and Kuroko (Aomine and Kagami are still in their own world, and the others haven’t left the locker room yet) – but, before they go, Kuroko’s voice stops them.

“Akashi-kun,” Kuroko says, his expression soft. “About earlier… Please, don’t worry.”

Akashi blinks. Furihata looks at the other two boys, having a glimpse of the reason behind Akashi’s troubled features, minutes ago. He feels the red eyes on him. Furihata gives him a small smile, and his hand squeezes Akashi’s, like saying, “ _don’t worry”_ , “ _you don’t have to say anything you don’t want”_ and “ _I just want to know if you’re okay”_ , in a language of touch they had developed along that two months of dating – though maybe they had begun to speak that idiom earlier, back when they were just friends.

Akashi squeezes his hand back. “ _I’m okay”, “thank you”._

“Thank you, Kuroko,” Akashi says, at last. They bid goodbye to their friend, and go out to the street.

Furihata breathes in the night air, trying to ease the worry that worms inside of him. Red eyes are staring at nothing at all, thoughtful and a bit troubled, yes – but overall, okay. They walk, still holding hands. Furihata holds, too, the word Akashi had said earlier, “ _home”_ , in his free hand. He brings it to his chest, in a brief gesture, just to keep it there, safe, and that’s what finally lets him relax.

It’s a silly thing, he knows. But it really feels like that; like a home. They’re heading to Akashi’s apartment, and not the Akashi’s family state in Tokyo. _It was my mother’s_ , Akashi had explained, _from before she married into the Akashi family_. _Past year, I barely used it, since I always would stay in Tokyo for only one or two days._

But since Akashi had to spend at least a week in Tokyo, due to the game against Jabberwock, and because the apartment was conveniently closer to the gym than the Akashi state, the boy had decided to spend the week there. Furihata had suspected that Akashi actually didn’t feel comfortable at the Tokyo state and was trying to do the possible to avoid the place, if only to not meet his father (even though rare were the occasions in which Akashi’s father would be at the mansion, from what Akashi’d told him).

Being in a long-distance relationship, it still surprises him that he gets to see Akashi every day, this time. That Akashi is somewhere in Tokyo, just a few stations away from his house, and not a shinkansen ride away. That Furihata is here, and Akashi is there, just within the reach of his fingertips.

Taking full advantage of the fact they are on summer vacation, Furihata goes to Akashi’s apartment in the morning, before Akashi’s practice begins. They have breakfast together, Furihata accompanies Akashi to the gym, and only after he heads to Seirin, to his own practice. Once it ends, he hangs out with Fukuda and Kawahara for a while or goes to his house, and then returns to the gym and waits for Akashi, so they can go back to the redhead’s apartment. And then: a dinner, quiet conversations, some kisses, soft touches. Before the departure of the last train, Furihata goes to his house. And though it’s been only five days of this new routine, Furihata thinks: he could get used to this.

“Akashi-kun,” Furihata calls him, now. “Mom sent us some curry, but we are out of drinks and bread for breakfast… can we enter the FamilyMart?” He asks, gesturing to the konbini around the corner.

“Of course,” Akashi agrees. They enter the convenience store, shopping basket on Furihata’s hand, which soon is filled with juices, a mint tea box, melon pans, eggs sandwiches, onigiris, Pocaris. At the checkout, Akashi’s faster and passes his credit card. “Please,” Akashi says, with a smile that melts Furihata’s protests. “Your mother is sending food every day. Let me do something for us, too.”

Soon, they enter the apartment. They take off their sneakers, land the shopping bags with care on the ground and turn to each other, still at the entrance, smiles already on their mouths.

“ _Tadaima_ ,” Akashi says, _I’m home,_ and it’s a half-joke, a half-truth by now. Akashi’s bad at jokes, but this one is theirs, and it’s stupid and wonderful. Furihata feels a laugh fill his chest, as Akashi leans in to leave a kiss on his cheek.

“ _Okaeri,”_ Furihata answers, _welcome home_ , and in his heart, he repeats it, again and again, and kisses the corner of Akashi’s smile.

-

After cooking the rice, then eating curry, drinking a cup of hot tea and washing the dishes, Akashi shuts his eyes and lets out a soundless, deep sigh, as his head finds a rest on Furihata’s lap, and the rest of his body settles on the couch. His boyfriend’s fingers walk through the strands of red hair, and Akashi feels weightless, like he’s drifting on the water or floating in the air. Sometimes, that hand leaves his head for a short moment, and Akashi hears Furihata turning the pages of the book in his hands, and then the warmth of that hand returns, caressing his hair.

He opens his eyes, not wanting to sleep, and wanting to enjoy Furihata’s presence, before the boy would have to go to his house. From this angle and because of the book, Akashi can’t see Furihata’s eyes: only the base of his nose, the small curve of his lips, and the back cover of the book.

All that night, Furihata hasn’t asked him, what Kuroko had meant earlier. Furihata sometimes asks, but he never insists, when he sees Akashi can’t or doesn’t want to talk about something. Even so, Furihata doesn’t go away, doesn’t leave – he stays, he is by his side, he is there. He is there, even he is not. Even when it’s just a text or it’s his voice on the phone, or his breath, or his laugh, or a smile Akashi can’t see, but can feel from the other side of the line.

But it isn’t fair to Furihata, he thinks. Sometimes, the fact that he doesn’t say what is wrong hurts Furihata, and that’s the last thing he wants to do, the last person he wants to hurt. Relationships are made of taking and giving, he knows, and what can he give to Furihata?

In the end, the truth is that he can only give himself, and do his best for Furihata. Even if there’re things unpleasant about him, even if he is afraid. More than anything, he _wants_ to give everything to Furihata – there’s no person he trusts the most than Furihata.

But the words don’t come easy. They had been buried deep inside of him for so long, and he has to dig them with bare hands, through a lifetime of his father’s teachings, of his own ways to remain standing.

When he was a child, he had learned to control his emotions, so he wouldn’t cry when there were too many lessons, no matter how much he already did; he wouldn’t cry, even if he was too tired to do it; he wouldn’t cry, even if he missed his mother terribly, because nobody would hear, because his father was never home and, even if his father would be, he couldn’t cry in front of him. Later, he wouldn’t cry because he wasn’t himself, sometimes; he was his other self. And it was easier, because he could run away, inside of his mind. It was easier, because he wouldn’t be alone – his other self was there with him.

His father used to say: Choose your connections with care. To be vulnerable is to show a weakness, to show weakness is to have a liability – something an Akashi can’t allow.

Akashi had seen the truth in that lesson, to an extent. When he was in elementary school, a boy, his closest friend at that time and whose face he couldn’t recall, suddenly had stopped to talk with him. When Akashi asked him the reason, the boy simply answered: that his father had said the contract didn’t work out, so he didn’t need to play with Akashi anymore, and the boy needed to befriend that other boy now. Akashi cried, and his mother hugged him.

_“It will be okay. One day, Seijuurou, you will find friends. True friends, I promise you.”_

His mother gave him many things: life, comfort, hope. And it was also her who gave him basketball – a mixture of everything his mother had given him before.

A few years had passed on, and with them, his mother passed away, too. But she would keep her promise and, for the first time, Akashi would think that maybe, maybe his father was wrong. He entered Teikou and wanted to begin anew. He indulged himself, allowing himself small things, like walking two blocks to the school, so nobody would see him been driven to the place in an expensive car; or to escape his driver and walk through the neighborhood, on the way home. He liked the Teikou basketball club – there, he was being judged by his abilities in the sport, and not by his surname, or the wealth behind it. There, his eccentricities, due to his upbringing, didn’t matter: his teammates were equally stranger, if not more. And even when they found out about his family, they treated him the same, because that didn’t matter to them.

“ _Basketball idiots,”_ Momoi said, a fond smile on her face, _“You boys just think about basketball.”_

They practiced together, played side by side. Together, they won, and Akashi thought all his other victories paled before this one; with them, Akashi felt he had won everything. Basketball: his mother’s gift. The Generation of Miracles: his mother’s promise.

But his friends were blessed, or cursed, with talent. The fear began to fill him, and he could see that Kuroko felt the same way. His worst fears almost became true, when Murasakibara challenged him. He was losing. He would lose basketball, because victory was the only condition his father would accept; he would be left behind, because his friends were going far away, somewhere he couldn’t reach them anymore.

_Let me go_ , his other self said. _You won’t lose._

And he didn’t. He let his other self take his place, and he ran away inside of his mind, falling asleep, falling into oblivion. He was tired, too tired. He would sleep and wake, but only for a few moments – enough, though, to see how his other self tried to keep all of them together: first through victory, and then through rivalry. He could see how everyone was hurt. His other self couldn’t, and neither did he want to hear Akashi. And Akashi knew that there was nothing he could do.

But one of them, one of them would defeat his other self, and defeat would make him disappear. He believed because it was them; and with them, everything was possible.

He was right. But in the end, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his other self. Selfishness, gratitude, maybe cheap sentimentality; but the truth was that he regarded his other self as family, as if he was his brother. Because of him, he hadn’t been alone, in those difficult years.

So he took over again, and lost, for the very first time in his life. Defeat had a bitter, salty taste. His heart tightened. But after, when he looked back, he wondered: had he truly lost? Because what he gained due to that defeat – it was something he could only call a miracle.

Because he had them again, in his life. Their friendship, their forgiveness. At Kuroko’s birthday party, in Kagami’s apartment, with all of them together, once more, he couldn’t help but look at them. His mother’s promise, that he would find true friends one day, echoed in his mind. And after everything, he looked at them and thought, _Mother, you were right. I found them._

_“Kuroko seems happy,”_ Furihata had said then, on the balcony of Kagami’s apartment. Akashi jolted a little, snapping out of his reverie – he had completely forgotten he wasn’t alone. But Furihata just dismissed his apology with a smile, before Akashi could even formulate it, and said, _“I think it’s because you’re here. All of you.”_

Everything became quiet. There was laughter, screams and conversations, inside of the apartment. Outside, the city still didn’t sleep, with the buzzing of the cars, running through the streets. But he couldn’t hear any of those noises; he heard nothing but the words of that person in front of him. And Furihata continued, _“You look happy, too. I’m glad.”_

He and Furihata barely knew each other, before that party. Their interactions, then, had been brief (and maybe terrifying to Furihata, he would think later), and he had been his other self on those times. Still, it surprised him, when Furihata opened the door of Kagami’s apartment and, at the sight of Akashi, promptly _fainted_. He thanked his fast reflexes, acquired because of basketball – he was barely able to catch Furihata, before the boy would fall on the ground. He resolved to sit down by Furihata’s side and talk with him, at the party. In part, because he was a bit worried about the boy. Another part of him, small and petty and proud, had wanted to prove that he wasn’t someone to be feared, that he could hold a normal conversation with anyone. But then, as Furihata’s shyness dissolved, drop by drop, he found himself wanting to hear more about the basketball practice, Seirin’s antics, the Library Committee, the books Furihata had read. He wanted to study more Furihata’s eyes, too. At first, they seemed black – but when the light would hit them just right, or when you would be a bit closer to him, a rich shade of dark brown would reveal itself.

After everyone congratulating Kuroko again and the confusion that came after, Akashi stepped back. He wanted to give a bit of space for Furihata, who was still a little uncomfortable – though, Akashi wanted to believe, to a smaller degree than he was at the beginning of the party.

But Furihata surprised him, for a second time. He looked for his company, with a slice of cake on his hands and a timid smile on his mouth. And then, yet again, when Furihata said those words.

It was dark on the balcony. The weak light came from the living room, passing through the glass door, and from the moon, with its faint halo. But Furihata’s eyes were shining, with a light that could only have come from inside of him, and Akashi couldn’t look away.

Akashi breathed in, and found out that it was easier. A weight was lift from his shoulders, from his chest. Like Furihata’s words had absolved him from his sins, from his mistakes, washing over him. Like they had given him permission, or their blessing – that even if he didn’t deserve to have his friends back, it would be allowed. That it would be okay.

Then, Furihata blushed and began stammering and apologizing, like he thought he had said too much or had been intrusive, and wouldn’t look at him. But Akashi wanted to see the light of those eyes, once more. So he took Furihata gently by his arm, calling his name.

And he found that light again.

_“Thank you,”_ he said, and then he knew that even those words wouldn’t be enough. _“I’m glad, too.”_

After that, Furihata kept giving things to Akashi: his shy smiles, texts, phone calls. The train melodies Furihata loved, which Akashi would find himself humming, or playing on the violin. The sound of his laugh. The warmth of his hands, the sweetness of his mouth. His kindness, his courage. His strength.

To be vulnerable may be to expose your weakness to someone else, as his father thinks. But Akashi knows now, because of his friends, because of Furihata – there’s a strength that can only be found when you rely on others.

And Akashi wants to be stronger. For his own sake, but also for the sake of the people he loves – because he also wants to be, in return, a source of strength for them.

His eyes dart to the ceiling, the chandelier hanging there, pouring light over the two of them.

“Today,” Akashi says, in a low tone, “I told them. That maybe… my other self could appear in the game against Jabberwock.”

The fingers on his scalp stop, for a moment. Akashi hears Furihata putting the book on the couch’s armrest, and then brown eyes hold his gaze, face above him. The caress returns on his hair, accompanied by Furihata’s gentle voice.

“And what did they say?”

Akashi releases his lips, and tries to do the same with the words.

“They…”

His friends’ voices echo in his ears again. Akashi sees, once more, the way they shrugged off his warning, like there was nothing to worry about, and Kuroko’s gentle smile.

_“You had such a serious look on your face that I thought it was gonna be something earth-shattering… but that was it~? So are you done then? Can we go home now?”_

_“Me too.”_

_“It’s alright. Even if you didn’t come out and say it, everyone here already knows you more than well enough.”_

_“Akashi-kun is Akashi-kun, right? That doesn’t change anything.”_

He presses his forearm against his eyes. A chuckle slips out of his throat, feeble.

“They hadn’t said it before. I had a feeling about it, but… it was so pretentious. So convenient, for me, to view things that way.” His fingers close in a fist. “But today they said it. It didn’t really matter to them, that I was like this.” He pauses. “No; that’s not the correct word. They accepted me… they accepted us. They… had forgiven me, and my other self.”

_Even if I don’t deserve it_ , he doesn’t say.

But Akashi is selfish enough to be relieved. He is selfish enough to be…

“Akashi-kun… look at me.”

…happy.

Furihata holds Akashi’s wrist and gently, slowly, pulls his arm away from his face. He lets their hands rest upon Akashi’s chest.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Their eyes meet again, and Furihata gives him a small smile. “I know you have forgiven your other self too, a long time ago. The only one you haven’t forgiven yet... is yourself, Akashi-kun.”

Furihata’s thumb runs across his hand.

“It will be okay. Even if your other self plays in the game… you won’t be running away, Akashi-kun. You’re helping each other. This time, neither you nor he will be playing alone. This time... you’ll be playing together. And with all of them.”

Somehow, Akashi already knew.

Even with his head against the light, Furihata’s eyes are shining. Like in that time on the balcony, again.

That shine reaches him and, underneath Furihata’s voice, Akashi’s chest, throat, the corner of his eyes – everything burns with warmth.

It makes him smile, despite the knot in his throat.

“These past few days… feel like a miracle,” Akashi confesses. “Playing with them… and being here, with you.”

Akashi lifts his hand, to touch Furihata’s face.

_“I’ve always known where my place was.” That’s what I thought._

_But I was wrong._

The sound of pages turning. The way Furihata laughs when he reads something funny. The way he dries a tear with his fingers, weeping softly, when the book makes him cry. Their feet touching, under the table, when they’re eating. A hand holding the other’s hand, over the table, on the couch, or when they’re walking on the streets. A smile that reaches his eyes and heart. Someone who waits for him.

_Because now I found it…_

_…The place I truly belong._

“Kouki,” he whispers, and his fingers graze Furihata's cheek.

It’s the first time he says Furihata’s given name. But it’s like he has always said it. The name feels right on his tongue, a language he has known ever since a long, long time ago.

Furihata blinks. One, two times. Even with the light hitting him from behind, Akashi notices the blush painted across his cheeks, the moist glint in his eyes.

Furihata takes Akashi’s hand in his, and brushes a smile into his palm.

“S-Seijuurou,” he says. Furihata pulls their hands away from his face, as he leans in. His bangs touch Akashi’s face first, and he shivers. “Seijuurou,” Akashi hears, once more, before he can taste the sound and the meaning of his name on Furihata’s lips.

His name, now on his mouth, tongue, sliding through his throat. Filling his chest, making his heart full, until it’s too much, until he says the other’s name again, savoring it in his mouth.

He tastes, too, a spicy flavor, from the curry they had for dinner, the mint tea Furihata took after… and then, Furihata’s laughter. It startles him, but also makes his stomach flutter. Akashi’s about to ask what is wrong, as his mind slowly clears, when Furihata explains, between chuckles and pecks at his mouth. “T-this angle,” kiss, “is terrible,” kiss, chuckle, “for my back.”

“Oh,” Akashi says, in understanding. Another kiss, and Akashi also begins to laugh. “Wait, Kouki. Let me just–”

“Yes,” Furihata agrees, but he kisses Akashi, one more time, and only then he draws away.

Finally free, Akashi lifts his head from Furihata’s lap, sitting on the couch. He turns around and gets closer to the other boy. Cups the other’s face in his hands and dips his head, giving Furihata more a smile than a kiss on the mouth.

“Better now?”

Furihata’s cheeks and lips are all red, and Akashi tries to prevent his lips from curving upwards, but he fails. Furihata nods, “M-much better.”

Their mouths meet each other again and move in a slow, soft pace, despite their fast heartbeat. Furihata’s hands find his waist, pull him even closer. Underneath his touch, Akashi feels himself melting with the warmth of those fingers, of those lips.

Furihata parts their mouths, forehead resting against his, noses touching.

“A-Akashi-kun,” Furihata says, slightly out of breath, “I need to go.”

“ _’Akashi-kun’_?” he echoes, voice a bit hoarse, a smirk on his mouth. Furihata doesn’t see it, since his eyes are still closed; but Furihata definitely hears him, because the tips of his ears get red.

Furihata opens his eyes, staring at Akashi’s.

“S-Seijuurou,” he says, with a sparkle in his eyes, with care for the name on his mouth, and Akashi’s heart flips. Then, almost with regret, Furihata continues, as he tucks a strand of red hair behind Akashi’s ear, “I really need to go.”

Akashi lays his head on the other’s shoulder.

“Can you stay?” he asks, “Just a little longer.”

“Just a little longer, then,” Furihata agrees, and the fond tone doesn’t escape Akashi. He hides his smile on the other’s shoulder.

Furihata gives a pat to his arm, saying, _just give me a sec_ , and adjusts his body in a comfortable position on the couch. Then, he gestures to the spot by his side, _come here_.

And Akashi goes there. He rests his head on Furihata’s shoulder again and holds his hand, fingers intertwined.

“Seijuurou.”

“Hum?”

“N-Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”

There’s a blush on Furihata’s neck, and Akashi chuckles. Furihata plays with their fingers.

“I-It’s kinda embarrassing, isn’t it. To change the way we call each other.”

Akashi stares at their hands, and hums in agreement, “I confess I was nervous about it, too.”

A shy question, “Really?”

Gently, with a smile, “Yes.”

Furihata squeezes his hand.

“But I’m happy that we did it.”

Akashi gives a kiss to Furihata’s shoulder, and then places his head on it again.

“Me too.”

_Me too, me too._

“And I’m happy,” Furihata says, leaning his head on Akashi’s, “that you talked with them today. I know it was something that had been weighing on your mind for a while… I’m glad that everything turned out fine. I mean, I already knew it would, but… you needed to hear from them.”

His chest thumps at those words.

Akashi breathes in, and Furihata’s scent fills his throat, his lungs. His fingers curl even more around Furihata’s hand.

“Thank you, Kouki.”

Furihata drops a kiss on his hair. Akashi closes his eyes, relenting into the brief touch. And, for some minutes, they stay quiet, enjoying the presence of the other by their side.

Then, “Kouki.”

“Hum?”

“Nothing,” Akashi says, as he smiles, “I just wanted to say your name, too.”

He feels, more than hears, Furihata’s laughter. It reverberates through the other’s body, shaking slightly his shoulders, and making a chuckle escape from Akashi’s lips.

When Furihata calms down, Akashi asks, gazing at the armrest of the couch, “Kouki, what were you reading earlier?”

With his free hand, Furihata takes the book from where he had left it and shows the cover for Akashi, which displays a single chrysanthemum.

“ _Folktales of Flowers_ ,” Furihata says, with such a tender tone to his voice that Akashi doesn’t even have to ask if he’s liking the book or not. With his eyes, he follows Furihata’s finger tracing the embodied letters on the front cover.

“Tell me a story,” Akashi asks.

“Okay,” Furihata agrees. He opens the book on the index, falling into quiet concentration, fingertip running some pages from head to toe. “Ah, right, this is the one I’ve liked the most so far. Do you want me to read it?”

“No,” he says and, sensing the confusion his words provoked in Furihata, he explains, “Just tell me, please. In your way.”

_In your words_ , Akashi doesn’t say. _When you say it, everything feels right._

“Alright,” Furihata nods, and leaves the book on the couch’s arm. For a minute, he stays silent, like he’s gathering all the words he needs.

When Furihata begins, Akashi shut his eyes, listening to the other’s voice.

It’s a story about a lonely lion, a suspension bridge, and a dandelion.

-

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Though it’s a sad story,” Furihata lets out a sigh. “What did you think?” When Akashi doesn’t answer, Furihata calls him, “Seijuurou?”

He stretches his neck to look at the face of his boyfriend. Akashi’s eyelids are closed, and his breaths, deep and slow.

_Oh, he is sleeping._

_Well, it’s been a long day for him, and it must be late_ , Furihata thinks, with a smile – which drops in the next second. _Wait, what time is it?_

Furihata takes his cellphone out of his pocket, sees the clock, and groans. _Crap._ Even if he leaves the apartment now, he won’t be able to catch the last train.

He had completely forgotten about the time.

He looks at the cause of his forgetfulness – the sleeping figure beside him, with his head on Furihata’s shoulder.

_“Kouki.”_

The sound of Akashi saying his name still hasn’t left his ears, and his heart beats faster. He strokes Akashi’s face with the back of his hand.

_Ah, well… it can’t be helped._

Carefully, he disentangles himself from Akashi, laying his head on a cushion and lifting his legs to rest on the couch. Job done, Furihata sits on the ground, as he supports his head on his palm, his arm resting on the corner of the couch, and looks at Akashi.

“Seijuurou,” he murmurs. Then, he says, tentatively and blushing, “Sei.”

He takes some strands of hair from Akashi’s forehead, holding them in between his fingers. The red bangs had grown, almost to the length they had at the beginning of the Winter Cup.

The Winter Cup… time really has passed. Who knew he would be here, with Akashi? If someone had told him back then, he wouldn’t have believed it. But then, at that time, he hadn’t known Akashi, not truly. Furihata knows him now, and can’t help but feel lucky, and grateful, for having him in his life.

He’s happy. That Akashi talked with the Generation of Miracles about his other self. And that Akashi told him about that conversation, too. Opening up isn’t easy for Akashi; but every time he does it, Furihata feels that he has become a little bit closer to Akashi.

And he’s happy because –

“Kouki…”

Akashi’s voice startles him, and Furihata jolts in his spot on the ground. But the eyes of the other boy are still closed. A wave of affection rushes over Furihata.

_He’s sleeping so peacefully…_

Furihata shakes his head.

Right, so what should he do now?

It isn’t good to sleep on the couch. On the other hand, Akashi seems very tired, and Furihata knows that, if he wakes up the other boy, Akashi is perfectly capable of staying up late, through a few more hours in the night, planning strategies for the upcoming game and analyzing the data about the opposite team, instead of actually going to bed and getting a decent sleep.

Decision made, Furihata gets up and walks through the corridor of the apartment, as he sends a text to his mother, explaining the situation. Then, he enters Akashi’s bedroom, grabs the blanket, and goes back to the living room.

The instant he sets his feet on that place, an unsettling feeling drops in his stomach.

The redhead is standing there, in the middle of the room, back turned to him. Furihata can’t see his face. For some reason, that image overlaps with the first time ever he saw Akashi, standing on the top of the stairs, in the beginning of the Winter Cup.

“So you’re still here,” having heard his steps, the other boy turns around to him, “Furihata Kouki.”

“A… Akashi-kun.”

A pair of mismatched eyes gazes at him.

It’s not his Akashi.


	2. You can put a blue ribbon on my brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! So, after a reader asked in the previous chapter (it wasn't exactly what their question was about, but it made me think about this), and though I tagged, I really think I should have been clearer. Sorry about that. ^^" So, yes, the game against Jabberwock will be featured here, and... I guess many of you already know what this means. If you're willing, please, take my hand and let's go with Akashi and Furihata on this journey. I'd be very honored, that's for sure. <3
> 
> Also, there's a little reference to Last Game NG-Shuu in this chapter! I just love the NG-Shuus, with all my heart, and really couldn't help myself. haha
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading, and for the comments, the kudos and the bookmarks! You're amazing. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter too!
> 
> * = indicates a quote from 3-gatsu no lion.
> 
> Edit: Here, some informative notes about what will appear in this chapter:
> 
> The headspace is an inner world where the alters/personalities can manifest as themselves and interact. These inner worlds can range in size and complexity. In the KnB canon (both anime and manga), we see that Akashi has a sort of a "room" where he talks with Bokushi, so I'm taking this as "Akashi has a headspace". But please be aware that, though it's relatively common for people with DID to have an inner world, not all of them do. You can read more about that [here](http://did-research.org/did/alters/internal_worlds.html)(and btw, I got to this site through the ["A Spark of Light"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/340342) series, written by the amazing courtingstars!).
> 
> About alters projecting themselves outside of the body: it's a sort of an extremely vivid mental image/impression of the alter being in the spot where they want to show up. It's not a hallucination (in the sense that is not a chaotic image, nightmare-ish or anything like that), but more like a mental visualization of an alter, outside of the body. From what I could gather, some people with DID experience this, and others do not. I have read some foruns and posts about this, but, once more, I recommend [this site](http://did-research.org/did/myths.html/) . Again, I remind you my portray probably will not be 100% accurate, since I'm not a health professional and I don't have DID.

_After the shock, the change, the loss, a doubt remained:_

_“Why did you switch places now, after all this time?”_

_You turned to me._

_“You were losing. Not only the game. But your composure, the will to keep playing.”_

_A laugh rose in my throat._

_“So the moment I’m useless to you, the moment you don’t need me anymore, you dispose of me.”_

_I couldn’t keep the scorn out of my voice. The next words would hurt you, but I didn’t mind it._

_I wanted to._

_“You’ve become a true Akashi.”_

_You pressed your lips tightly. Yet, you didn’t look away, and nodded._

_“…That was my plan, in fact. To let you play, taste defeat… and then vanish.”_

_My hands closed in a fist._

_“Why are you telling me this now? And why did you do not follow your ‘plan’?” The words came out of my mouth, almost spat. “Do you pity me? I assure you, I don’t need it.”_

_You gave me a sad smile._

_And it had been a long time, ever since you’d smiled for me – for any reason at all._

_“You may laugh at me. Think it’s ridiculous. But I see you… as my family. As my brother.”_

_We shared the same body, the same headspace. Maybe that’s why, when you said those words, I knew._

_“You’re important to me; you will always be. But…”_

_I knew they were true._

_“I’m not going to run away anymore.”_

-

_When I look into those eyes…_

“Er… d-do you want some tea?”

Furihata wants to slap himself.

Akashi lifts his left eyebrow in an elegant arc. “Tea?” he repeats.

“Hum, y-yeah?” Furihata gulps. “I was going to cover Seijuurou with the blanket, and fix myself one more cup of tea.” Since Akashi keeps silent, Furihata continues, “W-Well, I will just… take this,” he holds up the blanket in his arms, “back to the bedroom, and we can… have tea?”

The mismatched eyes observe him, and Furihata holds his breath. Finally, Akashi agrees, “Alright.”

“Okay,” Furihata nods, a bit relieved. He leaves the room, passes through the corridor in fast strides, and then enters the bedroom, putting the blanket on the bed.

When he arrives at the kitchen, Akashi is already there, sitting on the chair. “Hey,” Furihata greets, a bit timid, and the other boy only gazes at him, merely recognizing his presence.

Furihata goes to the counter, takes the kettle, and fills it with fresh water, putting it then to heat. He also pulls the teapot and the tea box out of the drawers, as he waits for the water to boil. When it does, he pours the hot water in the teapot, and then puts two tea bags in it. The gestures are automatic to Furihata, the familiarity of it grounding him, diluting his surprise.

All the while, Furihata feels the other’s stare on himself, but it doesn’t bother him. Akashi also seems comfortable in the silence, like he’s just waiting for the tea, too.

“Sugar?”

“No.”

Furihata places the two cups and the teapot on the table, and sits across the other boy. “Sorry, it’s nothing too fancy.” Akashi accepts his cup and takes a sip of the tea. Furihata gives him a sheepish smile and says, “It’s been a while. Since the Winter Cup, isn’t it?”

For a second, Furihata thinks he will not receive an answer that it’s more than a nod or a couple of words. But in the moment he drinks a bit of his tea, Akashi asks, eyes searching for something in his face and voice laced with curiosity, “Are you not afraid of me?”

Furihata blinks at him. Then, a chuckle escapes from his lips, and a small smile stays on his mouth. “Well, I _was_ ,” he answers, and the scenes of the finals flash in his mind. “Remember me, tripping over my own legs? I think it was hard to miss,” he finishes, laughing a little. His gaze darts to his cup, half full, and he knows the warmth inside of him is not only because of the tea. Who knew that he would be able to smile at that memory?

_“You’re far from a coward, Furihata-kun.”_

And it’s only because of one person.

Someone who is sleeping, at the moment. Asleep, inside of themselves.

“And are you not afraid of me anymore?”

Furihata lifts his head to his companion. “No,” he answers, with honesty. “It's not been too long since I’ve known Seijuurou, but… I guess it’s because I am by his side.” A second after, Furihata holds up his hands, “A-Ah! I-I know you two are different! It’s just… I’ve wanted to know you better, because… you’re an important part of his life.”

The other boy studies him for a half minute.

Then, his words are met with a scoff, and Furihata counts it as a win. The corners of Furihata’s mouth twist between a soft curve and a chuckle. Akashi takes another sip of his beverage.

“So… is everything okay? Seijuurou said you didn’t come out after the Winter Cup, even on the therapy sessions… Something happened today?”

His Akashi had begun therapy a month ago. But, in none of the sessions, Akashi’s other self had made an appearance. According to his Akashi, his brother wasn’t against it, but he didn’t seem interested in it either, or in taking the front again, for the matter.

At least… until this night, it seems.

Instead of answering, Akashi observes, “So you two are finally addressing each other by your first names.”

“A-Ah…” The blush covers all of Furihata’s face, in an instant. “…Y-yes, w-we began t-today.”

“Which means my brother will be even more insufferable from now on,” Akashi concludes, drinking the rest of his tea. On automatic, Furihata refills the cup, the embarrassment making him shake slightly the teapot, and pouring some drops on the table. Furihata takes a cloak and cleans the table, cheeks even redder, and doesn’t dare to look at the other boy.

But at last, Akashi answers the other’s earlier question, as Furihata sits down again.

“Nothing happened. My brother is tired, just sleeping.”

Furihata nods, though he already knows this. He scratches his cheek and says, “Yes, but… I’m asking about you too, you know. Is everything alright?”

The other boy stays quiet. His expression is mostly blank, except for a brief twitch on his eyebrows, maybe deciding if he should answer the question or not. In the end, he says, shrugging, “There was much on our mind today. For the first time in months, I felt the urge to get out for, you could say, a change of air... Though I didn’t expect you to be still here.”

_There was much on our mind today_ , Furihata repeats, in his mind. Then, he recalls: Kuroko’s words before he and Akashi could leave the gym, his boyfriend’s troubled expression, and what he had said later about his conversation with the other members of Generation of Miracles.

_Of course,_ Furihata thinks. _It was about you too, after all._

“Is it about the talk with the Generation of Miracles, isn’t it? How…” he asks, unable to help himself. “How are you feeling about this?”

“Feel?” Akashi echoes. He gives the other boy a pointed look. “It isn’t about that, Furihata Kouki. We watched tapes of Jabberwock’s games… in particular, our main focus was on Nash Gold Jr., of course, given the position he plays. However, from what we could gather, it’s clear that my brother’s skill set is not very compatible against his style – but _mine_ are.”

The second cup of tea remains untouched in his hand.

“In terms of strategy, the logical course is that I also play in the game. In theory, at least. But first, taking our history into account, it was necessary to warn the others of my possible participation.” He rests his gaze at the tea. “The team chemistry is still far from ideal… though it improved greatly in these past five days. And yet, while my skill set is better against Nash, if my presence would hinder the team… then, it would be better for me not to play at all.”

“But they are okay with you playing,” Furihata says.

Akashi nods slightly. “That’s what they say, yes. If so, it leaves the range of available strategies as wide as possible. And before an opponent whose abilities we don’t know very well, that’s the best course of action.”

Furihata could see the reasoning behind Akashi’s words. But it’s not only about the logic, is it? Before Furihata could second guess himself, he asks:

“Aren’t you happy about it, though?”

This time, Akashi lets out a sigh. “This doesn’t matter. You, Furihata Kouki, and my brother… are too emotional. But I do view this as a chance to redeem myself to them, even if a little.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Furihata repeats.

A minute of silence stretches between them, and the only thing Furihata can hear is the clock needles moving.

“I failed them, after all,” Akashi says. Despite the low tone of his voice, the words still reverberate in the kitchen. “I lost, and I also failed my brother.”

Furihata inhales, feeling something pierce his chest.

_This person…_

Excellency in all areas. The victor takes it all. It’s how Akashi had been raised, in his whole life. His Akashi, and this Akashi.

_“I am absolute.”_

_“Since I always win, I’m always right.”_

_“So even after she’d passed away, I was allowed to keep playing, though under one condition: as long as I kept winning.”_

In that world, wins are all that matters.

And because Akashi had lost, he…

_“Aren’t you happy about it, though?”_

_“This doesn’t matter.”_

His hands clench at his sides, shaking.

“A-Akashi-kun, I… I may be totally out of line to say something like this, but… even though results are important, it’s not just results that reach people*,” Furihata says, the words leaving his mouth louder, with more force than he had intended to. The heat rushes from his chest to his cheek, and the area behind his eyes. “They– They accepted you! And S-Seijuurou,” he tries to swallow the emotions that are rising in his throat, “Seijuurou, he… doesn’t think of you like that. He had forgiven you, a long time ago. Can’t you see that?”

Even Furihata, who is an outsider, who is ordinary, could see that. So how Akashi could be so blind, when he has a left eye that could see even the ‘future’?

Akashi stares at him, eyes flaring with surprise. His fingers wrap even tighter around the cup, before releasing their grip on it, moments later. He glances downwards, for an instant.

But when their gazes meet once more, there’s something else in those eyes.

“…I see.”

A gleam. Gossamer, raw. And utterly familiar.

Because it is the same kind of glint his Akashi had in his eyes, hours before.

Across Furihata, the other boy carries, in his right eye, the color of red that both Akashis share. And, within his left eye, it is like Furihata could see… a glimpse, a little bit of the future.

Or maybe a wish.

_Whenever I looked at those heterochromatic eyes, I wondered… what kind of world they see._

And now, those eyes water Furihata’s eyes, turning them into a mirror, a reflection.

_It could be that you… That deep down, you’ve always…_

“It’s not just results that reach people, is it?” Akashi repeats.

The line of Akashi’s mouth is light, as if its corners could lift upwards at any moment.

“Looks like I underestimated you again, Furihata Kouki. It’s… a disconcerting pattern.”

Furihata dries his eyes with the back of his hand.

“W-Well,” Furihata says, with a slightly choked voice, letting out a smile. “I-It seems I scored one more point against you… I would never have imagined it.”

A nod, accompanied by a serene expression on the other’s face.

“It won’t happen again,” Akashi promises.

Then, his gaze shifts to the clock on the wall.

“We should rest,” he says. “My brother and you, I believe, have practice tomorrow.”

Agreeing, Furihata takes the cups to the sink, pours the rest of the tea in there, and goes to the kitchen’s entrance. But he stops, once he realizes Akashi hasn’t followed him. At the same time, he hears the other calling his name, and he turns around.

The tick-tock of the clock echoes in the kitchen.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

-

Akashi opens his eyes, before the ring of the alarm. His hand searches for the cellphone on the nightstand, charging. He has no recollection of how he had gotten to his bed, or of plugging his phone in. The last thing he remembers: Furihata’s voice, telling him a story, almost a lullaby.

_7:10 AM_ , his screen shows. He sends a good morning text to Furihata and goes to the suite in his bedroom. And even after brushing his teeth, taking a shower, and putting on his gym clothes, Akashi still doesn’t feel truly awake, and neither Furihata has answered his text yet.

But when he leaves his bedroom, Akashi notices the half-open door of the guestroom. His feet take him inside.

And there Furihata is, still asleep. Brown strands of hair trying to hide closed eyelids, breath even, the slow rising and falling of his chest.

Usually, Akashi doesn’t remember his dreams. But if he did, he is sure that it would feel like this: a home, Furihata, and his name in Furihata’s voice, like last night. Maybe the past night was a dream, and this morning is also the continuation of that dream.

So when Akashi rests a hand on Furihata’s elbow, as he sits on the corner of the bed, or when he calls Furihata’s name, is not to wake the other; but to touch him – to know that Furihata is real. And even so, Akashi remains in doubt. His hand holds Furihata’s shoulder, then, and he says _Kouki_ again.

And Furihata opens his eyes, a step in the sleep, the other in the bedroom, with him. He looks at Akashi, and smiles. “Seijuurou,” he says, and then Akashi is sure: this is a dream and Furihata is real, and Akashi has never been more awake.

He leans down. With a kiss on the mouth, he makes Furihata give the other step in his direction, out of the sleep and into the dream, with him. Furihata chuckles and complains, “Ugh, no, I didn’t brush my teeth yet,” and tries to turn his face away. But Akashi holds his chin, smiling, and kisses him once, twice, and just stops when Furihata pushes his shoulders slightly, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed, saying, “M-Morning.”

Akashi laughs. “Good morning.” He takes some bangs off Furihata’s brow. “I didn’t know you slept here.”

“Because of _someone_ , I lost the last train…”

“Oh. I apologize.”

“You don’t look sorry at all,” Furihata observes with a tentatively serious face, which lasts maybe a half minute, before breaking into a smile.

Akashi smiles back, and his fingers stream over Furihata’s hair. Before he can help himself, he lets escape, “But if you stayed, you could sleep with me, Kouki.”

Furihata averts his eyes to the sheets, very pink. “H-Hum… it would be… w-weird.”

Akashi takes his hand off Furihata’s hair and berates himself internally. He wasn’t supposed to push Furihata. “I apologize, Kouki. I didn’t want to make you uncomfor–“

“N-No! I w-wanted to!” Furihata says aloud, holding Akashi’s forearm. “It’s just…” He sits on the bed, glancing at the pillow, and then at Akashi. “The thing is… I met your other self yesterday, Seijuurou.”

Everything stops, for a second. His heartbeat, his breath, the dust’s dance in the air. At once, thousands of questions go through his mind, but the first one that comes out of his mouth is, “Were you okay?”

The previous meetings between his brother and Furihata weren’t exactly pleasant. However, he receives a reassuring and small, but honest, smile from Furihata.

“It was okay. We just talked a bit.”

Akashi nods, relieved, but soon a wrinkle surfaces on his brow. “…I don’t understand. He hadn’t taken the front ever since the Winter Cup. Why now…?”

“I think,” Furihata begins, after a few seconds, and Akashi watches him. “I think it’s because of your conversation with the Generation of Miracles. He said _‘There was much on our mind today’_.” He pauses. “I got the impression… that he was feeling the same you were.” Furihata takes his hand. “You see, yesterday…”

And as Furihata tells him what had happened, something begins to sprout inside of Akashi. Something dangerous, even more so as he hears Furihata’s conclusion, "...I think he has changed."

A hope.

Akashi swallows. He closes his mouth and then, a few seconds later, releases his lips.

“Do you think so?” Akashi asks, at last, in a quiet voice.

_Do you think so, too? Is it not just me that thinks that?_

_Maybe I…_

Furihata holds his gaze. With tenderness, he reinforces his grasp on Akashi’s hand. “I think so,” he says, and his answer echoes inside of Akashi.

For a while, they stay in silence. Then, Furihata says, “Seijuurou, if it’s okay to ask…”

The way Furihata looks up at him – always so caring, so kind –spreads a heat through his body. Akashi nods.

“Seeing your other self like that yesterday, I thought… maybe he’s felt guilty all this time. Do you think that’s why he didn’t take the front, after the Winter Cup…?”

The question trails in the air.

“I wonder,” Akashi answers, after considering the other’s words. “I’m not sure either.”

He thinks of his brother, almost his mirror image, and fundamentally different. And yet, still a part of him.

The fact Akashi doesn’t understand him completely – what does this say about himself?

“It could be guilty, or… it could be,” Akashi says, “because of what I said. Perhaps a bit of the two.”

There’s a thing Akashi knows, at least: _when_ the change had taken place. It was the first conversation he had with his other self, a few days after the Winter Cup.

_“Why did you switch places now, after all this time?”_

"He's important to me. As you already know, to me… he is like a brother. I don't think I would be here if it was not for him. But I… hurt so many people. I hurt him, too. I wanted to change."

Akashi studies the pattern imprinted on the sheets. Geometric, made of white lines, on a gray background.

“I said to him that I wouldn’t run away anymore. Not from my friends, not from my father… and not from him. Or from myself. He just said, _‘Is that so?’_ , and told me he’d be sleeping for a while. From time to time, he would wake up, but he would only watch from afar and, sometimes, talk with me. I’d like to think… that it’s because he believes in me. But maybe this is just my wishful thinking.”

_Maybe I’m deluding myself._

_Maybe I think that just because that’s what I want to believe._

"You know, Seijuurou…” Furihata caresses his hand, meeting his red eyes. “When he talked about you… he called you _‘brother’_ too.”

_But if you say this…_

Akashi holds his breath, the words seizing him.

“Before,” Akashi utters, “He has never…”

Furihata nods, and his eyes crinkle. “But last night, he did.”

_…Then perhaps it’s alright for me to believe it too._

Akashi’s lips part, but no sound leaves them. His mouth curves into a small smile, then.

There are still things he wants to say to his other self.

Strangely, when Akashi thinks of his brother now, the image that comes to Akashi’s mind is not the one as his other self is at present – but how he was as a little boy, who had wiped his tears and shared his solitude, with that beautiful, glowing golden eye, that used to able to dissipate even the darkness in their headspace.

“I’ll talk with him,” Akashi says, and Furihata smiles, with a softness in his eyes that makes Akashi comfortable, but, at the same time, molds a lump in his throat.

His gaze rests, then, on their joined hands, on the line Furihata traces on the back of Akashi’s hand, with his thumb.

“Kouki,” Akashi calls, and Furihata’s attention also goes from their hands to his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking… would you like to sleep here today, and also tomorrow? I’ll have to go back to Kyoto the day after the game. If possible, I’d like to spend as much time as I can with you.”

He stops, searching for a better way to convey his thoughts. Despite all the eloquence he’s known for, as the Rakuzan captain and the president of the Student Council, and as the heir of the Akashi family, when it comes to matters regarding Furihata, he often finds himself at loss. Between the two of them, it’s always Furihata who, somehow, knows what to say. Furihata could be shy, he could stutter; but it’s him who always finds the right words, the words Akashi needs the most.

Even so, on his part, Akashi could try to be as clear and open as possible. To avoid any misunderstanding, or an unwanted pressure on Furihata, and to get closer to the other.

“I’m not thinking of doing anything; it’s not that. We talked about taking things slowly before. I just… want to be with you, that’s all.”

Akashi winces as the last phrases leave his mouth; he knows he has fumbled with the words. But Furihata looks at him, doe-eyed and red cheeks, and something in Akashi’s chest flutters.

“But… the g-game is tomorrow… won’t I bother you?”

He cups Furihata’s cheek in his left hand, thumb brushing the corner of the other’s mouth. “Of course not,” Akashi answers.

Furihata breathes. “A-Alright, then. I will stay.”

Underneath his thumb, the tips of Furihata’s smile lift even more.

And Akashi can’t help it.

He drags Furihata’s face closer to his until their lips meet. Akashi feels Furihata clenching his other hand tighter, one last time before releasing it, and then those hands, Furihata’s and his own, are also free to reach different places – the nape of the neck, the back, the cheek of the other. And the fact Furihata still wasn’t able to brush his teeth, that they are awake and their eyes are closed, none of that matters; they are always dreaming now.

Their mouths only pull away when Furihata’s alarm rings. _We should hurry_ , Furihata says, and _we should_ , Akashi agrees, but neither of them moves out of the bed. They stare at each other’s eyes, for a moment.

And their laughter fills the bedroom.

-

_Just one more block_ , Furihata thinks, walking in the gym’s direction. His bag is slightly heavier than in the morning, since he had gone to his house first, to take some clothes and other things he would need, and to let his mother know about his plans of staying at Akashi’s apartment for two days.

His cheeks burn as he remembers his mother trying to have That Talk with him earlier. Furihata had blurted just anything and nearly tripped when he was running away from her.

He shakes his head, trying to dismiss his embarrassment, and soon sees the gym’s front. He had sent a text to Akashi, saying he would be later than the usual, but the lack of an answer seems strange to Furihata. By this hour, the training probably would be over and Akashi would be already waiting for him.

His fears are confirmed when he sees the visibly distressed expressions on Riko’s and Momoi’s faces.

“Coach? Momoi-san? Something happened?”

“Furihata-kun,” Riko averts her gaze from her phone to him. “We’re waiting for the boys. Kuroko-kun followed my dad to Roppongi, where the Jabberwock team is… and the boys went after Kuroko-kun.” She holds her chin, a worried line between her eyebrows. “I have a bad feeling about this…”

“Tetsu-kun…” Momoi whispers as she stares intently at her cellphone, waiting for a text or a call.

“W-wait. Roppongi? Why would Kagetora-san go there? And why would he meet Jabberwock?” Furihata asks, confused.

Riko lets out a sigh and rubs her brow. “You see, according to my dad, since he was the one who insisted on a rematch… he’s been taking them out there. And… he’s paying for everything, too.”

Furihata shudders. “But, Coach…” he gulps, “Roppongi has some really expensive places, right?”

She puts a hand on his shoulder, staring at him with an empty look. “Yes, I know.”

Furihata seriously pities Kagetora. And his wallet. “Hang in there, Coach.”

“Hey. It’s Furihata. When I heard someone else coming, I thought it was them,” Takao says, walking to where he is, along with Wakamatsu and Hyuuga. Riko releases Furihata’s shoulder, giving it a few grateful pats, and she and Momoi begin to talk again.

“G-Good evening!” Furihata greets the other three players. “Hum… how long has it been since they left?”

Takao and Hyuuga exchange a look. “Forty minutes, more or less?”

“Yeah, about that,” Hyuuga agrees.

“Well, it surprised me, to tell you the truth,” Wakamatsu comments, scratching the nape of his neck. “I’ve never seen Aomine running like that before, except for the times we threatened to burn Mai-chan’s pictures. The other guys too... they do care, after all.”

Furihata nods, smiling, “They are good friends.” He notices Momoi looking at their direction, with a soft smile.

“Yeah, they all have that rainbow thing going on. Though Shin-chan will _die_ before he admits anything,” Takao laughs. “Hey, how about we play a little? We’ll be here waiting anyway, and time will pass faster like this. Better than staring into the air.”

“I’m on,” Wakamatsu grins.

“I’m counting on you, Furi.”

“Y-Yes, Captain!”

He leaves his bag and cellphone on the bench, along with the other’s belongings. For a while, they play, but all of them have an ear waiting for a phone call, not fully into the game.

And then, the Nozomi chime rings, interrupting the squeak of sneakers against the floor. Furihata makes a beeline for the bench, picking up his phone.

“Kouki?” Akashi’s familiar voice calls, from the other side of the line. He distinguishes, too, Kise’s loud voice, and the rumbling of cars.

“Seijuurou! Did you find Kuroko? Is everything okay?”

Riko, Momoi, and the others gather around Furihata.

“He’s with us. Kuroko’s injured, but he insists he doesn’t need to go to the hospital. Are you already in the gym?” When he gives an affirmative answer, Akashi continues, “Alright. We took two cabs and we’re almost there. I believe it’s nothing serious, but it’s better if Aida-san could check on him.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her.”

“Alright. See you soon, Kouki.”

The moment he finishes the call, Momoi showers him with worried questions, and Furihata tells everyone what Akashi just had said to him. Riko takes the first aid kit. They wait for five more minutes before they can hear the steps on the corridor outside the court. Kagami enters, supporting Kuroko, who has an arm around the redhead’s shoulders, and helps him to walk to the nearest bench. Furihata immediately takes the bags off the bench, letting the space free for his teammate. The rest of the Generation of Miracles also enters, and Akashi goes to Furihata’s side, greeting his boyfriend with a small smile.

As Kise tells everyone what had happened, and that Nash had beaten up their friend, Riko makes Kuroko take off his shirt to examine him. Meanwhile, Momoi cleans and patches up the bruise on his hands, gotten from he had fallen on the ground.

“Are you feeling nausea, Kuroko-kun?” Riko asks, after pressing his torso, and Kuroko shakes his head. She pushes the ice pack, wrapped in a towel, into his belly. “Okay, so hold on this. I think you’ll be okay for the game, tomorrow,” she says, and gets up. “Just make sure to take a good rest tonight.”

A collective relief spreads through everyone. Kagami, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until that moment, walks to Kuroko, hands curled into fists.

“Stupid! _What the hell_ were you thinking?”

Kuroko doesn’t even blink as he answers, “I couldn’t forgive them for calling the Japanese basketball players ‘monkeys’.”

Kagami takes a deep breath, before yelling again.

“Are you an idiot?! You could face them tomorrow about that! _Think_ before doing something like this!”

Kuroko stares at his partner, and deadpans. “…To think that Kagami-kun, from all people, would say this to me.”

The redhead’s eyebrows twist, veins popping on his forehead.

“Hey, are you insulting me, aren’t you?”

“Ah, I feel your pain, Kagamicchi,” Kise winces, massaging his temple. “I can’t believe Kurokocchi did this again…”

Aomine approaches them, hands shoved inside of his pockets. “Oi, Tetsu, he’s right. You may have guts, but no guns. What would you do if we didn’t go there?”

“Kuro-chin is an idiot.”

Midorima sighs. “Honestly…”

“Tetsu-kun, please don’t do that again!”

“It was highly imprudent of you, Kuroko,” Akashi says, arms crossed.

“Kuroko,” Furihata calls, and his friend lifts his head to him. “Everybody was really worried, you know.”

Kuroko blinks. His light blue eyes pass over each one of them, taking in the emotions displayed on their features, and Furihata sees the moment when Kuroko finally snaps out of his stubbornness, now replaced by guilty. His friend bows slightly his head, hand holding the ice pack in place.

“I apologize for worrying everyone.”

They exchange glances and half-smiles of _well, what can we do with him?_

Kagami runs a hand over his hair. Finally, he sighs and sits down, by Kuroko’s side. He puts his large hand on Kuroko’s head. “Idiot,” he says, and messes with the blue strands.

“Anyway,” Aomine says, averting his eyes from the couple. “What did you say to those assholes, Akashi? You spoke in English, right?”

At that moment, Furihata just had told Akashi that his mother hadn’t opposed to his stay at his boyfriend’s place (omitting, of course, the embarrassing part of the conversation). “Oh, that’s great, Kouki,” Akashi says, a soft expression on his features. However, as he meets Aomine’s gaze, the expression on his face turns into a grim one, probably remembering what had happened earlier in Roppongi. “I just put them on their place, that’s all.” Akashi adds, with a glow in his eyes, “And that we’ll win tomorrow.”

The members of the Vorpal Swords echo Akashi’s statement with a nod, a smile, or a phrase of agreement. Furihata sees the determination in all of them, fueled by the anger of what had been done to the Team Strky and Kuroko, and by the trust in each other.

He may be biased, that’s true – but in Furihata’s opinion, there’s no better team.

“Hum,” Aomine grunts, holding his chin, in his own world. “Maybe I should study a bit of English.”

A stunned silence.

“Dai-chan,” Momoi says, eyes glistening with tears and a hand covering her mouth. “After all these years, you’ve finally…”

Kagami looks at his rival, in shock. “Oi, are you okay? Are you dying?”

“Shut up, you two,” Aomine gives them a dirty look. “Those guys pissed me off, you know? I just wanna say some stuff to them. Hey, I know, teach me some English, Kagami. You lived in America, didn’t you?” The redhead refuses, with a categorical _hell no_. Aomine tsks and tries with another person, “Satsuki?”

“Sorry, Dai-chan, but I’m really tired~”

“Akashi?”

“No. And if your English is the same as when we were in Teikou, I suggest you give up and focus only on the game tomorrow.”

Kise laughs. “Oh yeah, Aominecchi’s English really sucked…”

“What are you talking about?” Midorima huffs. “Yours was just as bad.”

“Kise-chin and Mine-chin are dumb.”

“Uh, you guys are so mean…”

“Wait a minute,” Aomine says, under his breath, ignoring his friends’ comments, looking like as if something finally had sunk into his head, though delayed. Furihata gulps, having a bad feeling about this.

Aomine points a finger at Akashi. “Earlier… you… you called him,” and then directs his finger to Furihata, “by the first name, didn’t you?”

Everyone’s heads snap at them.

“True,” Riko stage-whispers. “I didn’t register before because I was so worried about Kuroko-kun… But Furihata-kun has also called him _‘Seijuurou’_ …”

Under the scrutiny of so many eyes, Furihata feels his whole face burning. He glances at the ground, and then at Akashi, who also has a faint blush on his cheeks, and Furihata’s heart skips another beat. Akashi gets closer to him and holds his hand, positioning his body slightly in front of Furihata, as if Akashi is trying to shield him from the others’ gaze.

Even with blushed cheeks, Akashi doesn’t lose his composure. “And?” he says, in defiance.

Momoi, Riko, and Kise squeal in excitement, screaming _How cute!_ Aomine whistles. Kagami laughs and Kuroko, whose head is on his boyfriend’s shoulder, smiles at Furihata. Hyuuga murmurs, sadly, _I want a girlfriend too_ , and Wakamatsu puts a hand on his shoulder, in solidarity.

“Ne, Shin-chan, call me by my first name, too,” Takao says, a grin on his face, holding on the shooting guard’s arm.

“Shut up, Takao,” Midorima retorts, pushing his glasses up, in what seems an attempt to hide the redness of his cheeks.

Furihata’s so embarrassed that he takes a while to notice that the tallest boy of the group is by his side.

“You and Aka-chin are sweet,” Murasakibara says, when Furihata looks up at him. “I like sweet things.”

And, really, the only thing that keeps him standing is Akashi’s hand on his.

-

And that’s how the last day of training, with all the confusion, has come to an end. They go home, take a shower, eat dinner, wash the dishes, brush their teeth.

But there’s still one last thing left to do.

“I’ll be back soon,” Akashi says, from the doorway of his bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, Furihata nods, smiling, “Okay.”

His gaze rests on Furihata a little bit longer, and then he heads to the living room. The light had been left on, and he strides toward the glass door that separates the room and the balcony. On the glass, Akashi sees his reflection.

“Are you there?” he asks. “I need to talk with you.”

Nothing happens, at first. Then, time seems to slow down, and, in his mind’s eye, he sees his brother stepping out of the shadows outside, walking on the balcony, until he meets with Akashi’s reflection, and merges with it.

A yellow eye glows like a little moon, and stares at him. _‘Well?’_ his brother asks.

Akashi greets him with a small smile.

“You and Kouki talked yesterday,” he begins.

An annoyed expression crosses his brother’s face. _‘You saw yourself. He’s in one piece.’_

Gently, Akashi says, “I know.” And the tone of his voice disarms his brother’s defensive posture, momentarily. “It’s not that what I want to talk about.”

His brother waits, in silence.

“Kouki told me everything,” Akashi starts again. “It… surprised me. I didn’t expect you would come out.”

The boy reflected on the glass crosses his arms.

_‘I wasn’t expecting to meet him here either. And you can rest assured; I won’t come out like this anymore.’_

Akashi shakes his head. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s a problem.” His brother gives him a skeptical look. “It’s true. I just wish… to understand you. I didn’t realize you were feeling like this. And that the reason you haven’t taking the front is–“

_‘You’re overthinking,’_ his other self interrupts him. _‘Listen. I don’t know what assumptions you or Furihata Kouki made, but you know how much was on our mind yesterday. Mostly, your thoughts of guilty and those…_ ’ He furrows his forehead, as he continues, _‘…frankly insufferable thoughts revolving around that boy. As you see, I just needed a change in the air. Quite literally, I should say.’_

Akashi presses his lips shut. Then, he smiles, but hints of sadness tug at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t you be honest with me?” he asks.

His other self stands by his words, his features blank.

_‘There is nothing else to say.’_

“Alright,” Akashi nods, almost with a sigh, knowing it is futile to insist – at least, for now.

But there’s still a pull at his chest, words itching to come out. He replays the conversation with Furihata in his mind, and his lips part slightly. Then, he adds, “But on my part… I realized there are still things I need to say to you.”

Akashi pauses, a tangle of words in his mouth. He looks through his reflection, beyond the balcony, at the city shrouded in the night, carrying tiny and glimmering lights. “You know, I… even after all that had happened… I think I’ve been blessed.”

He stops, untying the knot in his throat.

“I had a mother… who gave me so much. I found basketball. Found friends I can’t replace. I have… someone I love. Who, for some reason… loves me back.” His voice falters. “And I have you.”

His brother’s eyes widen.

“If you weren’t there… I don’t think I would be where I am today.”

The smile in his mouth tightens, as his heart, as his throat.

“I’m sorry. You had to carry all the weight of ‘victory’ for me.” Akashi stretches out his hand. “But thank you… for also carrying me.”

He presses his fingers and palm against the glass, trying to reach his other self.

“Thank you,” he smiles, “for calling me ‘brother,’ too.”

Like in a trance, his brother places his hand on the other side of the glass. He glances downwards, the red strands hiding the heterochromatic eyes from Akashi.

_‘Are you a fool?’_ his brother asks, his voice stifled. _‘Why are you thanking me? And why are you apologizing? If someone should apologize, it should be me, not –‘_

There’s a crack.

And then, the glass standing between them finally shatters, in a thousand pieces.

All at once, they are no longer in the living room, or on the balcony – but in their headspace.

Akashi pulls his brother by the hand. He cradles him in his arms, pressing their chests together.

“When Kouki said you had called me brother,” Akashi says, clenching his other self in his arms, “I was happy.”

Few were the times when Akashi had seen his brother lose his self-control.

One time was in the Winter Cup final. And the only other time, when they had their first conversation after that fateful tournament.

His brother clasps his hands on Akashi’s back. And Akashi feels something shaking inside of his brother, because it pierces him, too, like a punch on his chest, a pulse of a heart.

Time is different in their headspace, in that hug. Suddenly, they are children again, but, this time, it’s Akashi who comforts his brother. Years pass as they are on each other’s arms, a lifetime of smiles and tears, of victories and mistakes, until they arrive once more at the present, and finally, slowly, pull away.

His brother lets go of him, and gives some steps back.

_‘You’re really a fool,’_ he says, light lingering in his eyes, a hint of a smile on his mouth, _‘brother.’_

Before his other self slips into unconsciousness, Akashi hears, _‘I apologize. For everything.’_

Akashi opens his eyes. His reflection stares at him, trails of tears running across its cheeks. He wipes his face, turns off the lights. Retraces his steps back to his bedroom. Slips under the sheets.

“Everything okay?” Furihata whispers, facing him, lying down on the other side of the bed.

“Yes,” Akashi answers, in a quiet voice.

Furihata keeps looking at him.

“Come here,” Furihata murmurs, after a beat, a hand outstretched in Akashi’s direction. And Akashi follows the other’s voice, shifting closer to him. He presses his face to Furihata’s chest, arms encircling his waist, legs tangling. Furihata closes his arms around him, his breath ghosting over Akashi’s hair. He doesn’t say anything, even when tiny drops wet his T-shirt, and just embraces him tighter. And Akashi wishes time could also be different here, now, in this moment.

So he could be in those arms forever.

But time passes. They fall asleep, fall in silence, in the comfort of the bed and of each other’s presence.

-

_One day, I asked you._

_“How is defeat like?”_

_I had lost; even if I hadn’t played until the end, I had lost. As you also had._

_But, if so, why were you like that?_

_It was like you hadn’t been defeated, and I couldn’t understand._

_You stared into the distance._

_“It’s… painful. I don’t want to lose ever again. But…”_

_Memories flashed in our headspace. Colorful, warm and so, so bright. And though I saw them, I couldn’t fully seize their meaning – probably because it was hard for you to translate them into words._

_You also looked at those scenes._

_“When Kuroko told me, ‘let’s play again, time after time’, during the lineup… when we all played basketball on Kuroko’s birthday, and when Furihata-kun told me those words on that day, I thought…”_

_Our eyes were one of our differences, but it was a matter beyond their colors._

_And I could never see that more clearly than at that moment._

_“Defeat is not so frightening. Because even if I fail, even if I fall…”_

_On that day, when you explained to me what defeat was… Brother, your eyes…_

_“…I just have to get up again.”_

_They were shining with a light I still didn’t know._


	3. You know I dreamed about you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have arrived at the final chapter. About the process that Akashi goes through in this chapter (and his reaction to it), I used these two sources: [this site](http://did-research.org/treatment/integration.html) and [this paper](https://scholarworks.smith.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1705&context=theses). Also, there's a reference to a scene from the previous fic in this chapter. And... yep, I think that's all.
> 
> I still have some ideas for "Nozomi Chime", so maybe you will hear from me! But this part of the series ends here. Thank you to everyone who has read this story. <3 Now, please enjoy!

_I’m coming back to you._

-

_Ever since I was a child, after my mother had passed away… few were the times when I cried in front of someone else._

_For example, in the Winter Cup final, when I tasted defeat for the first time…_

_…and in front of Kouki._

Akashi and Furihata trail behind the rest of the team, talking. And as they talk, Furihata’s concern for him seems to lessen, bit by bit.

Last night, Akashi had been so overwhelmed with emotion that he ended up crying into Furihata’s chest. In the morning, he was a bit embarrassed, but Furihata covered his hand with his and said, _“It’s good to let things out.”_

Maybe because of this, energy is flooding through him, today; his body is light and his mind, focused.

“Ah, here we are,” Furihata says when they arrive at the stadium. He looks at his phone’s screen, scrolling through the texts. “Fukuda and the others are already here. I should go,” he says, since the accesses for the players and the public are separated. Furihata puts the cellphone back in his pocket and glances at the ground, blushing. “I-I should go,” he repeats.

But Furihata doesn’t move.

And his face’s getting redder.

And Akashi is confused.

“Kouki?”

It happens fast.

“G-Good luck at the g-game, S-Sei!” Furihata blurts, and then he lands a kiss on Akashi’s cheek, and promptly runs away.

Akashi stares after him, lifting a hand to his cheek.

_That was…_

“Akashicchi! We’re going to leave you behind!” Kise yells from the entrance.

_…a nickname._

He catches up with the team.

“What did take you so long– oh, whoa, Akashicchi, are you okay? Do you have a fever or something?!”

“…I burn easily in the sun.”

-

The whole stadium vibrates with excitement, attended by a full house. The air is thick with expectancy. The Vorpal Swords gathers in a circle, arms around each other’s backs and shoulders.

“Well, boys and girls, here we are. Once again, thanks for complying with the impulsive wish of an old man. I won’t say too much; I’m sure all of you are fired up and, if you are not, you better be right now. Go win against those brats,” Kagetora grins, “and take all my money back! I’m counting on you!”

They laugh, and Riko lets out an exasperated _Dad!_

“Excuse me,” Kuroko says, after the laughter goes down. “May I say something too?”

“Go ahead,” Kagetora nods.

“It’s good to play together with everyone, once more. I didn’t think it would happen again. I… I’m very happy.”

The Generation of Miracles trades smiles between them. But Momoi’s smile ends up moist, and she sniffs.

“Oi, Satsuki, are you crying?!”

“Sa-chin, you cry too much.”

“And of course,” Kuroko continues, with a small smile, “I’m happy to play with you too, Kagami-kun, Captain, Takao-kun, Wakamatsu-san.”

“Ah, good! I was feeling forgotten for a minute here,” Takao says, grinning.

“Good, good!” Kagetora laughs and turns his head to Akashi. “Captain! Any last words, before the game begins?”

The tips of Akashi’s mouth lift in a confident curve.

“A week ago, Jabberwock said ‘monkeys’ shouldn’t play basketball. Yesterday, they hurt our teammate,” Akashi says. “Today we’ll give them our answer. We’re going to make them swallow their words, and show them our basketball!”

The whole team shouts, eyes gleaming. The huddle dissolves, and the starters step into the court.

 _“The revenge time has come! Vorpal Swords…”_ The commentator announces, dragging the words and meeting the public’s enthusiasm, _“... vs… Jabberwock!”_

The players stand for the lineup, and then position themselves afterward.

And it’s time for the tip-off.

-

_Brother, can you hear me? I have a request._

He runs, and receives a pass.

_‘Yes, I know what it is. I thought it was about time.’_

Nash stands in his way. Akashi keeps bouncing the ball and sees, in the corner of his eye, Kise positioning himself near the midcourt line, behind him, and Akashi passes the ball.

_Like we thought, in the end, my play style is a poor match-up against Nash. Please, lend me your strength. I need your eyes._

Kise scores, and all of them run to defend their area.

 _‘That is fine, but are you sure? I was their enemy once,’_ his other self says, and the words resonate in their mind _. ‘I might not mesh with them. It could throw off the team balance. They might have said it would be okay, but it could be different in practice.’_

_Yes, it could be true. But…_

Akashi watches his teammates’ backs – Murasakibara, Kise and Aomine, doing their best to stop Jabberwock, working together. And from the sidelines, Kuroko, Midorima, and Momoi, supporting them. It’s almost like their days in Teikou – and at the same time, it’s different.

Because it’s better now.

_It’s okay. They’ve changed. We don’t think of each other as enemies anymore. And… neither you do._

_‘Fine,’_ his brother agrees. _‘I’ll fight, too. For the team’s victory.’_

He swaps places with his brother. He watches through his brother’s heterochromatic eyes as Kise loses the last ounce of his strength, and falls on his knees. His brother helps Kise to his feet, and then to the bench, supporting the weight with Kise’s arm on his shoulders.

“We’ll take care of the rest, Ryouta,” his other self says.

And Akashi smiles.

_You never did. Actually… you’ve never thought of them as enemies. Maybe you didn’t realize it yourself. But you wanted to be still connected to them, by any means._

_Even if it meant to become their enemy._

_That’s why you made that oath with them._

The buzzer rings.

 _‘Brother,’_ his other self says in their mind, as he enters the court again. ‘ _I would appreciate if you could keep your foolish assumptions to yourself.’_

Akashi lets a chuckle escape, _Alright. Let’s play._

-

Furihata grips his hands together, almost like in a prayer. He squeezes his lips into a thin line. The first quarter was good, with the Vorpal Swords points ahead; the second, balanced. In the third, Jabberwock widens the difference, but Kise and Aomine play with an impossible synchrony to catch up with the score, and Kise uses his Perfect Copy until he reaches his limit – and then, Akashi’s brother enters the game.

He notices it, in the first moment, even from afar. It’s something about the way the redhead moves on the court, how he holds himself, how he bounces the ball.

Furihata knows that Akashi and the rest of the team will do their best.

_Yet…_

_…why can’t I shake this bad feeling?_

He shuts his eyes, bringing his clasped hands closer to his mouth.

_And why can’t I stop thinking about what Akashi-kun had said?_

Two days ago, he met Akashi’s brother. They were about to leave the kitchen and go to their respective bedrooms when he realized the other boy wasn’t moving.

 _“There’s something I’d like to ask you,”_ he said, and Furihata’s eyes flickered to the redhead, surprised. _“Alright,”_ Furihata nodded.

The other Akashi watched him. And the question that had come out of his mouth took Furihata aback.

_“Do you think my brother is happy?”_

_“Yes,”_ Furihata said, after a while, as the memories filled him: the curl of Akashi’s smile, the way his shoulders relaxed, the brightness of his eyes. _“Though I know there are things that still hurt him… and, when I think about it, I do not know him for so long… so maybe,”_ Furihata smiled sheepishly, _“maybe I’m just being pretentious here.”_

Even so, the line of Akashi’s smile was tangible, real… and true.

_“I think he’s happy.”_

For what seemed a long time, the other Akashi just stared at him.

 _“I see,”_ he said, a peaceful expression on his features. _“It’s enough, then.”_

Furihata returns his focus to the game, not taking his eyes off Akashi.

 _It’ll be okay_ , he repeats to himself. _They’ll be okay._

-

_‘Goodbye.’_

_Wait. There must be a way. Another way. Something we hadn’t thought yet –_

His brother shows him again. The Emperor Eye, incomplete, because they are split in two. The solution to defeat Nash’s Belial Eye.

An unrelenting logic, a natural conclusion.

_‘This is the only way.’_

Akashi purses his lips. Finally, he nods.

He accepts. He understands.

And then, his other self is vanishing right before his eyes. And he can’t do anything. He must not do anything. He mustn’t–

But when Akashi hears his brother’s last words, his resolve shakes – an instant of weakness, an instant of selfishness. A scream shatters him, from inside out.

_No!_

_Please_ , he tries to reach his other self, _please, don’t leave me._

His brother smiles, light piercing through him. He gives to Akashi the first words he had said, when they had met each other for the first time, face to face:

‘ _Don’t cry.’_

Awash in that brightness, inside of that light, his brother’s arms wrap around him, one last time.

Akashi opens his eyes.

And he–

 _sees_.

-

They win. The public roars, his teammates scream, exchange fist bumps, hug each other, hug him.

 _It wasn’t in vain,_ Akashi thinks.

They follow Kagetora’s lead, after the event is over, the older man promising drinks, snacks and sweets, to Riko’s despair. There, he will meet the rest of the Seirin.

And Kouki.

 _It was the right decision_ , Akashi tries to convince himself.

They are welcomed by the laughter and the congratulations of the Seirin players.

 _It was worth it_ –

“Sei!” Furihata tackles him in a hug. “Congratulations! You were incredible!”

Akashi’s hands grip Furihata’s cardigan. He breathes in, finally sensing the oxygen filling his lungs. He doesn’t utter a word, pressing his face against Furihata’s shoulder, and doesn’t let go of the other.

“…Sei?” Akashi stays silent. “What happened?” Instead of answering, the grasp on Furihata’s back gets stronger.

“Furi! Come sit with us!”

Furihata doesn't answer them, and just keeps holding Akashi. But Akashi breaks away and tries to give him a smile. He knows Furihata isn’t even a bit eased by it.

“Later, I’ll tell you,” Akashi says. “Go there,” he gestures to Fukuda’s and Kawahara’s table. “I’ll sit down with my old teammates. Now that the game against Jabberwock ended, I don’t know when we’ll be able to gather everyone again,” Akashi says, knowing this is the only thing that could convince Furihata in the moment.

“Alright,” Furihata agrees, reluctant, eyes still worried. “But I’ll be right there, okay? If you need me. And if you are not feeling okay, we can go home anytime.”

“Okay,” Akashi says, and watches as Furihata go. He also walks to his table, and sits between Aomine and Midorima. There are cookies, pineapple juice, French fries, and fried chicken served. Akashi pushes the unsettling feel to the back of his mind, and tries to act normally among his old teammates. He’s glad that the victory, the fatigue, and the confusion of the post-game party distract his friends. He puts on a mask, because he doesn’t want the others to find out about how he is feeling.

Because _he_ also doesn’t want to know it.

Midorima pours some juice for him, and Aomine complains about where Kagetora had taken them – a rest spot of the gym they’ve been using for practice that week. The food consists of what the vending machines have and the takeouts. From time to time, from his table, Furihata glances at his direction, and Akashi tries to reassure him with a tiny smile. Soon, Murasakibara comes, holding as many sweets as he can with an injured arm.

“Hey, how’s your arm?” Aomine asks, as Murasakibara takes his seat.

The other boy half-shrugs, eating Pocky, “This is nothing.”

“Are you sure it’s okay doing something like this, Akashi?” Midorima asks.

“What are you talking about?” Akashi smiles at the memory. “We used to sit around and celebrate like this in middle school.”

“That’s right,” Kise says, appearing from behind Murasakibara and taking one of his Pocky sticks. The taller boy glares at the blond, who doesn’t even register it. “All that matters is that there’s plenty of food and fun,” Kise says, swinging the Pocky stick, and then points it to Furihata’s table. “Right, Seirin?”

Furihata, Fukuda and Kawahara give Kise sheepish smiles, “Y-Yeah.”

Kise tries to take one more Pocky stick, and Murasakibara protectively holds the snacks. “Kise-chin, if you steal again,” he says, sending a dangerous look to the blond, “I’ll crush you.”

Kise gulps, holding his hands in front of him and letting out a nervous laugh. “P-Peace, Murasakibaracchi.” He sits down and, in an instant, his happy persona is back, but there’s a serious tone in his eyes. “Ne, Akashicchi,” Kise says, after eating a cookie. “Thank you, back there in the game. For saying it wasn’t lame of me… and helping me to the bench.” He cracks a smile. “And did you see? Everything worked out in the end. You didn’t have to worry so much, about that stuff.”

Akashi goes still, knowing exactly what Kise is referring to. Two days ago, when he had told them that his brother could make an appearance in the game.

And how his friends had accepted them – him and his brother.

Kise fixes his golden eyes on Akashi. And, though they were different, like honey and metal, Kise’s eyes remind Akashi of another yellow orb.

_I wish…_

“Aka-chin is a worrywart,” Murasakibara says.

_…you were here._

“Yeah,” Aomine agrees, leaning on the chair. “It’s like I’d said. He could do this, because it’s him.”

_I wish…_

“It’s true,” Midorima says, as his eyes flicker to Akashi. “We’ve always believed in you.”

_…you could hear these words._

Akashi clears his throat, trying to dispose of the newly formed lump on it.

“Thank you,” Akashi manages to say. “But I couldn’t do this alone. It was because all of you were there.”

_Because you were there._

_But… you are not here anymore._

He holds on his mask with force, tries to shut his heart. Behind the skin of his face, the bones of his ribcage, something is growing, and he pushes it further inside of him.

“Are you okay, Akashi?” Midorima asks. Aomine, Kise, and Murasakibara also watch him, concerned, the same question in their eyes.

“Yes,” he replies, remembering himself. His lips curve upwards, and the familiarity of the movement seems to put his friends at ease. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

His eyes search then for Furihata, only to find an empty table. And the other tables are just as empty too, except for the one where Kagetora, Takao and Wakamatsu are seated at.

As Momoi approaches her friends, Aomine asks, “Satsuki, do you know where Seirin went?”

“Tetsu-kun and Kagamin called the team to talk about something, a few minutes ago.”

Kise hums. “Kagamicchi and Kurokocchi were being a little weird,” he comments, and then a wrinkle creases his brow, like a sudden realization had hit him. “And I didn’t see Kagamicchi eating anything here! Isn’t strange?!”

“It’s better,” Murasakibara says, with pieces of a cookie on his tongue. “There’s more left for me.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Midorima reprimands, in a disgusted voice.

“Ne, I was thinking…” Momoi says, in an innocent voice.

Kise nods. “I think I know, Momocchi.”

They point their fingers at each other and say at the same time, “Go spy on them!”

“Count me in,” Aomine grins.

“…Why?” Midorima asks, dry.

Momoi turns to him, her eyes bright. “To gather information!”

“To help them!” Kise supplies.

Midorima directs a judgmental gaze to them.

“Well then, let’s go,” Akashi says, getting up from the chair, and the others do the same – even Midorima, though he questions why Akashi would agree to do something like that. “I believe it won’t be a problem,” Akashi answers – not admitting that, in truth, he desperately needs a distraction.

And he finds it, when they go outside, in the news that Kagami will go to America.

Before the game against Jabberwock, Akashi had arranged with Kagetora a surprise and friendly match, with the Generation of Miracles and Seirin, if the parties would be up for it afterward. It was just a self-indulgent wish of his, to keep playing by their side for as long as he could, and against that team that had changed them all, and to which they owed so much.

Akashi suggests exactly the friendly match to them. Though it would have another motivation now, he supposes it’s better like this. They could give back to Seirin, even if a little. A parting gift, for Kagami, Kuroko, Furihata, and all of their team.

A last game.

(Somewhere far away, inside of him, hours ago, a voice said those words:

 _“Don't worry... I was able to have a parting gift as grand as getting to play with everyone”_.)

Everyone agrees and enters the gym – but Furihata keeps Akashi outside to talk. Furihata waits until it’s only the two of them and then he asks, quietly:

“Sei, are you sure about this? I know… that you’re not okay,” his voice wavers, full of worry. “How about we go home?”

Akashi swallows. It’s strange; usually, in front of others, he can control himself. But before Furihata, he…

“Let me do this,” Akashi says, just as quietly, after a still minute. He falters, “I can’t… can’t go home yet.”

If he would go now, he would have to face that thing growing in his chest.

And he is not ready for it.

Furihata looks at his face. The brown eyes get wet, but Furihata doesn’t cry. Maybe he just had seen that something Akashi is trying to avoid.

“Okay,” Furihata nods, his voice cracking for an instant, and he yanks Akashi closer, hugging him. “It’s okay,” he repeats, and Akashi hugs him back.

And even if it’s only for a second, Akashi wants to believe in those words.

-

The game ends, and Kise suggests taking the post-game party to the karaoke, meeting almost everyone’s approval of the plan.

“S-Sorry, I think we are going home,” Furihata declines, smiling shyly. “Seijuurou is tired… and I’m also kinda exhausted.”

Kise pouts, “Really, Akashicchi?”

“Yes. I apologize,” Akashi answers. “Maybe next time.”

When Akashi goes to gather his belongings, Midorima approaches Furihata. The taller boy holds out a piece of paper to Furihata, who accepts it, confused.

“Hum… t-this is…”

“My number,” Midorima explains. “I noticed Akashi was… a bit off, after the game against Jabberwock. If you two need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Oh,” Furihata blinks. Then he smiles, grateful, “Thank you.” He puts the piece of paper in the pocket of his backpack. “Leave it to me.”

After a few minutes, Akashi comes and they leave the gym, heading to Akashi’s apartment. Even though it’s summer, the night air feels cold on his skin. So Furihata takes Akashi’s hand, intertwining their fingers, to keep their hands warm as they walk.

But a weight crushes his chest. He can’t stop thinking about the look in Akashi’s eyes at that moment, when the two of them were alone, after it was decided a last game would be played. His eyes were transparent, like a child’s. Akashi looked so broken, so young… and so lost. For an instant, Furihata couldn’t breathe. It was like someone was tearing his heart apart.

_“I can’t… can’t go home yet.”_

Akashi’s voice didn’t sound simply like he couldn’t go home.

_It was like…_

Furihata glances at the sky. Starless, and almost with no clouds. Only a yellow moon hangs in there, lonely in the dark.

_…you didn’t know your way home anymore._

His eyes land on Akashi. And his heart hurts, swells, and beats inside of his chest.

Furihata squeezes Akashi’s hand.

_It’s okay, Sei._

_I will take us home._

-

Sneakers are left at the entrance, and they enter the living room. Furihata takes their bags to the lower table near the couch. All that time, from the gym to the apartment, and from the door to here, Furihata’s kept pulling Akashi by the hand – gently but steadily, not letting go of him.

“Sei, how about you go take a shower first? And I’ll fix some tea for us–”

Furihata had meant to release his hand, but Akashi doesn’t loosen his hold, only gripping it more firmly. Furihata blinks, at first, and then returns the grip on his hand. The other boy studies Akashi’s face, his brown eyes kind.

Akashi doesn’t say a single word, and Furihata doesn’t either. They stay silent, hand in hand. The only sounds Akashi hears are Furihata’s breathing and the tick-tock from the clock, in the kitchen.

_…It’s so quiet._

_Here,_

_and inside of me._

“Kouki,” he says, and his voice seems to come from someplace far away, and maybe it is from his heart. “In the game… we couldn’t defeat Nash, at first. He had… the Belial Eye, similar to our Emperor Eye.”

Akashi stops. The words slowly climb through his throat, with difficulty, but Furihata’s eyes don’t leave him, waiting.

“To my brother, it wasn’t that the Emperor Eye was weaker. Rather, it was… incomplete.” He releases his lips. “Incomplete,” he repeats, “because we had split in two. But if he vanished, we– _I_ could acquire the true Emperor Eye. Reach its full potential. Then, he…”

His voice fades. He looks at their joined hands, unseeingly.

“I can’t… feel anything.”

His other hand grasps his T-shirt, in the area of his chest, twisting the fabric in between his fingers.

_Ah, that’s right–_

_What was growing inside of me was…_

“And I can’t feel him anymore. He isn’t… anywhere.”

_…this emptiness._

“He is gone. And I...” Akashi raises his eyes to look at Furihata’s, finally meeting his gaze. “I am… alone.”

Furihata stares at him, his eyes shining, brimming with unshed tears. His lips open slightly, and a strangled gasp leaves his mouth.

“Sei,” he breathes, and tears stream down his face.

“No,” Akashi says, “Don’t cry, Kouki. I’m fine. It was his decision. I–”

Furihata holds out a hand to his face, tenderly. He touches his cheek.

“Sei,” he utters, as his thumb grazes the area near the corner of Akashi’s left eye. “You… you’re crying, too.”

He wipes a tear from his face, gently. And, in that moment, it’s like that touch awakens his body from the numbness into which it was drowned. Suddenly, Akashi is aware of the heat behind his eyes, the moist texture of his cheeks, the soreness of his throat. The salty taste in his mouth. The strength his lungs are employing, because it’s hard to breathe. The sound of his heart, breaking and beating against his chest.

His hands shake.

“No – I don’t. I don’t want to feel like this. It’s –”

_– it’s too painful._

Furihata’s arms slide around him, palms closed on his shoulder and back, face buried in the hollow of Akashi’s neck.

“It’s okay. It’s okay to cry, Sei,” Furihata says, fingers holding on Akashi with more strength. “After all… He was with you, by your side, all this time. It’s hard,” he chokes, “to say goodbye to someone you love.”

_My brother…_

_…appeared before me when I was a child._

_To me, he was the embodiment of my father’s expectations._

_However, he was far from perfect._

_He was harsh. Proud. The means didn’t matter to him – only the end._

_But when I had lost my mother,_

_and when I had lost all hope, in the middle school,_

_in those moments, to me, he was… my salvation._

_But we were so wrong. I ran away, and he made terrible mistakes._

_And yet, despite everything… I didn’t want to lose him._

_Because I was selfish._

_Because I loved him._

_And he…_

A sob escapes Akashi’s lips.

_He had also called me... 'brother.'_

“Sei, do you remember?” Furihata asks against Akashi's shoulder, and his voice is close, so close. “In the spring, at night. Tokyo station, platform seventeen. I was hugging you,” and he clutches Akashi in his arms, “just like this.”

Akashi nods, slowly, as tears trickle down his cheeks.

Yes, he remembers.

How they ended their first fight. And the first time they hugged each other.

“Do you remember what I said?”

Yes. He remembers everything.

On that night, Furihata was breathless, from running all the way from his house to Tokyo station.

From afar, Akashi spotted him immediately, as Furihata did, in the moment he stepped into the platform. For a split-second, they stared at each other’s eyes.

And then, Furihata began running again.

Into his direction.

“I’m here,” Furihata says, echoing his own words.

He embraced Akashi, tightly.

“I’m by your side.”

And Furihata’s voice and the Nozomi chime filled the air around them, and everything else inside of Akashi.

“You are not alone.”

Akashi blinks.

His eyes burn with more tears.

And just like on that spring night, the words overflow, and overwhelm him. Embracing his emptiness, mixing with his pain.

Enfolding him in warmth.

“I’ll repeat these words,” Furihata says, in a choked voice, “as many times as you need.”

Akashi’s hands cling to the other’s back. And he cries, sobs on that shoulder. His whole body trembles, and he doesn’t know if it’s him or Furihata who is shaking; he doesn’t know when the tears will stop. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, in each other’s arms, or when they had moved to the couch, lying down, tangled together.

“Kouki,” he whispers, voice hoarse from crying, head resting on Furihata’s chest. “I… I didn’t say it yet.”

The hand that was soothing him, rubbing his back, stops. Gently, “…Huh? What, Sei?”

_I…_

His eyes still sting, moist. But Akashi presses a smile against the other’s chest, near his heart.

_…came back._

“Tadaima.”

_I’m home._

An intake of breath. A chuckle, and tears fall, damping Akashi’s hair.

“Okaeri,” Furihata answers, _welcome home_ , and he keeps Akashi inside of his embrace, in between his arms.

Little by little, their breathing and heartbeat slow down. They close their swollen eyes, drifting off.

And Akashi dreams.

He will not remember any of it. He will wake up with tears in his eyes, remains of the dream. He will find the absence inside of him, still pungent, still rending. And he will find Furihata beside him, still asleep. The morning light will cross the curtains and caress Furihata’s body, pressed against his own body, on the couch of the living room. His arms will envelop Furihata, dragging him closer. Maybe the pain will never quite go away. Even so, somehow, he will know – everything will be alright.

But now, in this moment – Akashi dreams.

In front of him, his brother and his mother are sitting, their smiles full of peace, looking out the window. They are inside of a train, whose type he has seen only in movies set in older times, or as a model on Furihata’s bookcase. Furihata is there, too, in the seat beside him, staring at the landscape, with a gleam in his eyes, and Akashi’s hand in his.

The windows are open, Akashi knows, because the wind is poking his shoulder, almost as if inviting him to look.

And he does. A field of flowers presents itself before his eyes, trailing along the railroad. It occurs to him, then, that he doesn’t know where the train is heading to, but the thought doesn’t bother him. He shuts his eyes, and rests in the seat. The weight of that hand holding his, that warmth surrounding him – that’s all he needs. The wind strokes his hair, in the same way the dandelions and the safflowers outside sway with the breeze.

-

_For what reason was I born?_

_At first, I thought it was because of the victory._

_But ever since that day –when you called me brother, for the first time –, I’ve been thinking about it._

_And I couldn’t help but think of the words you had said to me, when you step up in the front again – that I had lost sight of why I wanted to be strong._

_And the truth is:_

_In fact, what we fear the most is the loss, isn’t it?_

_Not the loss, opposite of the victory._

_But the feeling of being left behind; the ache of the absence. The unbearable loneliness._

_The loss of someone you love._

_Like we lost her._

_Like we almost lost them, too._

_I was born to protect you. To spare you from this kind of loss, to prevent it._

_But I made mistakes. And you’ve changed, you’ve gotten stronger; and you will be even stronger._

_Brother._

_You don’t need to live with a broken heart anymore._

_So this part of your heart, this eye, this time; I return everything to you._

_But it does not mean I’m not keeping our first promise:_

_It will be okay._

_You have_ them _. You have_ him.

_You’re not alone._

_Don’t worry._

_I wasn’t supposed to be born, in the first place._

_Someone who shouldn’t have existed._

_Someone who will disappear, soon._

_And yet… it was granted to me a parting gift. To play together with them, once more. To play together with you._

_Even though I had hurt all of you before,_

_Even though I didn’t deserve it, such a gift._

_Even so… I was happy._

_Thank you,_

_and goodbye, brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 2020-07-13: Hum, a couple of weeks ago, I said it was the end... but apparently it isn't. XD The story is kinda writing itself, and I'm working on an epilogue now. Don't know how long it will take, because of real life, but there'll be an epilogue, that's for sure. See you then, and thanks for reading!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months later, in Kyoto. It’s Akashi Shiori’s death anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Sorry for the wait. I was a bit overwhelmed with work, and there were days when my brain was too mushy to write. haha But now the epilogue is here... and I'm kinda happy, and kinda sad, that it's over. Again, thank you to everyone who is reading this fic. Hope you guys enjoy the epilogue.
> 
> Well, at this point, you already know the nerd I am (XD)... so here, a few cultural notes:
> 
>  _Butsudan_ is a memorial for the deceased members of the family, set up at home, so they can be remembered and honored. It can vary from an ornate platform to a wooden cabinet, and usually contains things like an incense holder, bells, memorial tablets, and a place for offerings (tea, food, among other things).
> 
>  _Haka_ (family grave) is a stone monument usually located in the cemetery, with a chamber or crypt underneath for the ashes. On certain dates or occasions, the family prays before the butsudan and also visits the tomb. _Ohaka Mairi_ is the visit to the haka. You clean the grave, burn some incense, place the offerings, pour some water at the top of the tombstone (it's an offering of water for the deceased), and then pray.

_There are people I see almost every day._

Akashi puts on his T-shirt, sliding his arms through the sleeves. His shoulders relax, relishing in the resting feel of having taken a shower after morning practice.

“Ah, man, now I’m feeling alive,” Nebuya says, massaging his neck, and the words make a tiny smile sprout on Akashi’s lips; it’s almost like his teammate is voicing his own thoughts.

“And I’m still dead,” Hayama complains, leaning on his locker. “But also _hungry_. I wanna yakiniku! Let’s go!” he says, raising his fist.

“Despite your words, Kou-chan, you’re so lively,” Mibuchi observes, as he applies balm on his lips. He checks his face in the mirror, brushes the corner of his mouth, and looks again. Satisfied, Mibuchi gives a nod to his reflection. “Today is Saturday… I heard that Kizashi is having a special price for their Kuroge Wagyu this weekend. We could go there.”

“Reo-nee, you’re the _best!_ You know that, right?” Hayama says, eyes twinkling, and Nebuya echoes the blond’s statement.

“Just well informed, my dear,” Mibuchi shakes his head, amused.

Hayama turns his bright eyes to their captain. “Are you coming too, ne, Akashi?”

Akashi takes his bag and closes the locker. “Oh, I apologize. I already have an appointment.”

“Right,” Hayama stretches the word, grinning. “An appointment… or, you know,” he pokes the redhead with his elbow, in a conspiring tone, “a date?”

That earns Hayama a chuckle. “Kouki is coming,” Akashi answers, his expression softening, “but it isn’t exactly a date.”

Hayama hums, curious. Mibuchi puts a hand on the blond’s shoulder and directs a smile at Akashi.

“Well, Sei-chan will come with us the next time, right?”

There is no way to know for sure, given his schedule – even so, his teammates always count on him and include him in their plans, so Akashi finds himself answering, a smile spreading on his mouth, “Yes.”

-

_People I don’t see every day, but I wish I could._

He leaves the flower shop, with two identical bouquets. Okada, his driver, opens the car’s door wordlessly, and Akashi gives him a short nod in thanks, before slipping inside of the vehicle. As soon as he lays the arrangements of white and red chrysanthemums in the back seat, his phone rings with a stream of messages. He opens the chat called _‘basketball idiots and peach girl’_ , and can’t help the smile that finds a place on his face again.

(In its origins, the chat was called ‘rainbow,’ much to Aomine’s and Midorima’s distaste. In retaliation for their incessant complaints, Momoi had changed the group’s name; and, for two whole weeks, it remained as ‘reverse harem’. Neither of them had dared to express dissatisfaction about it again, fearing something worse - on the other hand, Akashi and Kuroko were too amused to do something about it, Kise loved it, and Murasakibara simply didn't care -, until Momoi graciously renamed it to its current title, when her anger was placated.)

As he thought, it’s about the arrangements for their next gathering, and his friends are trying to set up the date for November 1st or 2nd. Akashi recalls his schedule for the next month: though he will be in Tokyo on November 8th, the date is out of the question – it’s Furihata’s birthday. But yes, he could reschedule some appointments to the middle of that week, and go to Tokyo also in the first weekend of November. After that, the Winter Cup preliminaries will begin, and all of them will be able to meet only in the tournament itself.

 _Yes, the first weekend of November is fine_ , he answers, and his message is soon followed by a wave of emojis – courtesy from Kise – and _I guess it’s settled, then_ , from Midorima.

A new text makes his phone vibrate in his hands, but it’s not from the chat. A smile fills his mouth as he reads the message. _Just arrived at Nagoya! One more station._

 _Okada-san will be waiting for you at the station_ , he answers.

-

_People I don’t always want to see._

“Shiroyama-san, please take this bouquet and leave it in the butsudan,” Akashi asks, handing over the flowers to the butler.

The older man bows and takes the bouquet, carefully, “Of course, young master.”

Akashi is about to go upstairs when Masaomi emerges from the corner of the corridor, walking to the entrance in measured strides, checking his watch. “Father,” Akashi says, more as a gasp of surprise than as a greeting, and Masaomi raises his black eyes to his son.

From what Akashi could recall, his father was supposed to take a flight to Sapporo earlier this morning – even if today is his mother’s death anniversary.

“Seijuurou,” his father greets him. Then, as if he followed Akashi’s train of thought, Masaomi explains, while he passes by his son, “I rescheduled the meeting with our associates to later this afternoon, and I must stay there until Tuesday.”

“Yes,” Akashi answers, the word automatic in his tongue. An instant later, and he calls, just as Shiroyama is opening the door to the older Akashi, “Father.” Masaomi stops, but he doesn’t turn back. The unspoken words hang between them, a distance that neither Akashi nor Masaomi knows quite how to shorten. “I’m going to visit mother’s grave today,” Akashi says, at last.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Masaomi replies, and Akashi is under the impression this is not all his father wants to say. Akashi waits – for what, he doesn’t know exactly – and Masaomi stands by the doorframe for just one more moment before leaving the house, without uttering another word. Shiroyama bows once more, and only then he closes the door behind Masaomi.

Akashi swallows the sigh that tries to escape his mouth. He takes a deep breath and heads to his bedroom, to change his clothes.

-

_People I will never see again, no matter how much I want to._

Akashi blinks at the flowers placed in the vases positioned in the butsudan. His attention is fixed not on the flowers he had bought, but on the other bouquet displayed there, composed only of red chrysanthemums – his mother’s favorite flowers, and her favorite color. Sensing his surprise, Shiroyama tells, “Master brought those flowers earlier, Seijuurou-sama.”

“I see,” is his answer. Shiroyama takes it as a signal of his dismissal, bows, and slides the door closed – the butsudan room is one of the few areas in the main house that retained the Japanese style. The red chrysanthemums, the remaining incense stick burning, the wrinkles in the ground pillow positioned in front of the butsudan – all of them indicates his father’s presence in the room, moments before.

“I still… don’t understand him, mother,” he says, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as he looks at Shiori’s portrait, placed beside the memorial tablet. Next to them, two trays of food offerings are laid on the wooden platform.

He burns three sticks of incense with the lighter and swings them delicately, to erase the flame. With a bow of his head, he puts the incense in the holder and rings the gong, before his knees lands on the ground pillow. His hands meet, palms pressed together, and he closes his eyes.

The perfume of the flowers blends with the smell of burning incense, and the aromas stir a sense of calmness in him, like he can breathe even deeper. His mother’s face, his brother, Furihata, his friends, even his father, along with these last two months – they all pass through his mind, as he prays.

He opens his eyes to his mother’s photograph, forever smiling. He smiles back, as he murmurs, “Your grave… I will also see you there, mother.”

The smoke coming from the incense makes his eyes sting. Slowly, Akashi gets up and goes to the window, opening it slightly, and a faint breeze and the light outside hit his face.

He turns away, giving his back to the half-open window, and observes the room and his shadow stretching on the floor. The words curl around his tongue, and then leave his mouth as a whisper:

“Are you there?”

But, of course, he receives no answer. Only the smoke, the scent of the incense, and the silence hear his question.

 _“It will take time, Akashi-san,”_ Dr. Akasaka, his therapist, had told him, two months ago. _“Until now, you’ve lived as a multiple individual. Adaptation can be hard… especially when the integration was sudden, like in your case.”_ She placed her notepad on the desk, and then her eyes focused on him again. _“Akashi-san. What I will say next it’s not because I dismiss your pain, and I know things are not the same anymore. But let me ask you this,”_ she said gently, _“don’t you think that your alter, in a way, still lives in you? That ability that you told me about, for example… wouldn’t it be proof of this?”_

His throat grew tight at those words, and Akashi couldn’t reply. His therapist watched him and nodded, understanding.

 _“That said… you don’t feel him anymore; you can’t talk to him. This is hard, and this is also true.”_ Dr. Akasaka enlaced her hands. _“Take all the time you need to mourn him, Akashi-san. Your feelings_ are _valid. And let’s work on this…and talk about what you can do from now on. What do you think?”_

He’s been searching for the answer to those questions, every day. Building it, piece by piece. And someday, maybe, he will have it – the complete picture.

Shutting his eyes, he leans on the window. His shoulders and the back of his neck bask in the sunlight; hanging by the window, the wind chime sings softly, as the breeze enters the room.

_And then, there’s a person I always want to see. And in moments like this… it’s when I want to see him the most._

“Young master,” Shiroyama calls, from the other side of the door, “your guest has arrived.”

Akashi flutters his eyes open. “I’m going,” he announces, and leaves the room. As he walks, Akashi notices, not for the first time ever since Furihata had visited him, how this house is too big, how the corridors are just too long.

When he had told Furihata that his mother’s death anniversary was coming and that his father wouldn’t visit her grave due to a business trip, Furihata shyly asked if he could accompany Akashi. And Akashi said yes, in a heartbeat. The thought of introducing Furihata to his mother, and that Furihata wanted to join him in the visit to the grave, made Akashi well up with warmth.

He wanted to pay for the train ticket, but Furihata wouldn’t accept it. His boyfriend could be stubborn about certain subjects, much to Akashi’s frustration. Though Akashi had relented at that moment, privately, he thought of ways to improve what he would do and get for Furihata’s birthday.

Nevertheless, he knew it wouldn’t be enough in the end, because it wasn’t a matter of money. Akashi had received so much from Furihata, and he wondered if he would ever be able to give back one day.

Because what Furihata had given him was immeasurable.

It’s Akashi who sees Furihata first, and his chest clenches with a mixture of yearning and peace. A second later, Furihata notices Akashi; his mouth opens with a smile and a name on the tip of his tongue, “Seijuurou.”

They meet halfway, in an embrace. With arms closed around each other, Akashi feels the long-distance and the longing slipping from them, slowly, as the reminders fill Akashi with familiarity: ah, yes, this is how it feels like when these hands rest on his back, when these bangs tickle his neck, how it feels like to have this smile against his shoulder. His hands slide to Furihata’s elbows and Akashi draws away, asking, “Kouki, how was your trip?”

Brown eyes glow as Furihata replies, “All good,” he grins. “I think I’ll never get tired of the Tokaido shinkansen.”

Akashi almost snorts. “Of course you won’t,” he comments, shaking his head with fondness. “Have you eaten lunch?”

“Grabbed an onigiri on the way, but I’m still hungry. And you, Sei?”

“I haven’t eaten yet, but I already asked the staff to have lunch prepared beforehand.” He glances at his watch. “We still have time. What do you say?”

“Great idea,” Furihata says, but he fumbles with his backpack and takes a package carefully wrapped out of it. “H-Hum, but first, if it’s not a problem… may I burn some incense for your mother in the butsudan too? I brought an offering.”

“You didn’t have to. But thank you,” Akashi says. “Let’s go there first, then.”

A hand is offered, and then taken by another hand. They trade smiles, and Akashi guides him through the halls of the mansion. And at each step, Akashi watches with wonder, but not with surprise, as the house shifts into his home.

-

_I want to make you happy._

_But when something like this happens…_

_What can I do for you?_

Under his feet, a dry leaf cracks. They walk down the path wreathed with a blanket of gravel and autumn foliage, each of them carrying a small bouquet in their hands. There’s still a small distance to be covered until the cemetery and, the closer they get to the graveyard, lesser the people. On that part of the temple grounds, they are alone, except for an elderly couple who wanders a little further in the path, in slow steps. Without the sound of people talking aloud, the chirping of birds and the rustling of the leaves rise in his ears, and Furihata finally takes in the scenery. Maple and cherry blossoms trees line up along the way, a tunnel of color – orange and yellow, red and brown.

 _It’s beautiful_ , Furihata thinks. He doesn’t realize he has stopped walking, at least not until his eyes land on the path again and he sees Akashi a bit ahead of him, distracted, his face turned slightly to the right, his gaze also fixed on the landscape. _Beautiful_ , Furihata repeats, in his mind.

And, like sometimes happens when he looks at Akashi’s back, he’s back at that night when he saw Akashi’s brother, standing in the middle of the living room.

On that night, he felt he had become closer to Akashi. Not only because he finally had called Akashi by his given name – but also because, after talking with Akashi’s other self, he felt he could understand them, and how those heterochromatic eyes saw the world, a little bit more. _I wanted to know him better_ , Furihata thinks, with a tug in his chest. _I wish I could talk with him… much, much more_ , and he doesn’t avert his gaze from Akashi. _Sei, you probably… still miss him, don’t you?_

Everything had been so sudden. Sometimes, it was hard to believe what had happened.

The day after the game, Furihata woke up within warmth – Akashi’s arms wrapped around him, the sunlight glowing on them. _How are you feeling_ , he mumbled into his red hair. Akashi didn’t say he was okay, but he answered, _a little better_ , and Furihata nodded. After a while, when the sun was a little higher in the sky, they finally got up, took turns in the shower, and ate breakfast – an egg sandwich for Akashi, some onigiris for Furihata, and half of a tangerine for each of them. Akashi stayed quiet, for the most part; in his eyes, there was a bit of sorrow and a deep silence, but also some serenity. Furihata’s hand reached for his, over the table, and Akashi gave him a small smile, before tightening the hold on his hand.

Then, Furihata remembered Midorima’s worried words and told Akashi about it, and did he want Furihata to talk with Midorima? Akashi didn’t appear exactly surprised, and shook his head. He called Midorima and talked with him in a low voice, telling him what had happened, hearing his friend, and finishing with _Thank you, Midorima_. He kept staring at his phone, and after a minute, he said, _I suppose it’s better to make an appointment with Dr. Akasaka, as soon as possible_ , and Furihata encouraged him to do so. But it was weekend, so Akashi mailed her instead, and would call her on the following day.

They went to the bed, and Akashi curled against him, again: face nuzzling the nape of his neck, chest pressed to his back, a hand under the pillow, the other hand over his heart, and Furihata placed his hand over Akashi’s. He could feel Akashi’s chest inhaling and exhaling, Akashi’s heart beating, and Furihata’s own chest and heart followed that same soothing compass. They only left the mattress when it was needed, and stayed there until, inevitably, the time to leave the apartment came: Akashi had to take the train to Kyoto, and they had to go back to their routines.

Like always, they talked through the phone, and sometimes they used Skype. Furihata had never resented the distance separating Tokyo from Kyoto more than on that period. It was so little, what he could do for Akashi, and he was so far away.

But he was glad for one thing – even there, in another city, Akashi had people he could rely on. _“I told my teammates,”_ Akashi commented over the phone, one night. _“They were his teammates too, after all.”_ And Furihata nodded, even though Akashi couldn’t see him. _Seijuurou’s voice_ , he noticed, _was lighter_ , and maybe it was because things could get less heavy when shared. _“That’s good, Sei,”_ Furihata said, smiling.

In the meantime, Furihata managed to visit Akashi in Kyoto, once. Furihata had been in the mansion a few times, and could count the number of visits in one hand – but he hadn’t met Akashi Masaomi yet. Akashi’s father was rarely home, mostly away on business trips. Furihata didn’t know what to think of him. Something seemed to change between Akashi and his father, though only slightly. Even so, their relationship was distant at best, and Akashi was still wary of his father.

But all these thoughts were pushed aside when he finally saw Akashi again, and his arms were filled, once more, with the other’s presence.

Akashi and Furihata didn’t leave the mansion in that weekend. They mostly stayed indoors, though they did go for a walk in the garden, and another one around the stable. There, very reluctantly, half-panicking, half-amazed, Furihata rode on Yukimaru, together with Akashi. Back to the mansion, in the study, Akashi played train melodies on his violin, and Furihata guessed each jingle right away, much to Akashi’s amusement. Then, he played the tunes again, because Furihata wanted to record them on his phone. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the library, a nose in the books, and a head leaning on the other boy’s shoulder.

Sometimes, there were moments when Akashi’s gaze would trail somewhere else. Sadness came like a wave: touching the shore, engulfing at times; but always retreating to the sea. In those times, Furihata stayed by Akashi’s side, and waited with him. Bad moments would come; but good moments would come, too.

When Akashi went to Tokyo for the Generation of Miracles’ gathering, and to see Furihata, a month had passed since the game against Jabberwock. The former teammates would play a basketball match, and Furihata went to the streetball court around the time Akashi had said the game would have probably ended. But when he got there, his breath was taken away by the sight before his eyes. Even later, Furihata didn’t know what exactly had been said, or how the situation had ended up like that.

What he saw:

Next to the bench, in the sidelines of the court, the sunset coming over them, the Generation of Miracles was huddled together in a hug, a confusion of arms and shared smiles. Akashi was right there, in the middle of it. A succession of images flashed before Furihata’s eyes: the reunion at the beginning of the Winter Cup, Kuroko’s birthday, the Interhigh as second years, the training for the match against Jabberwock, and the game itself. The emotions rose up, and coiled in a lump in his throat. And Furihata, of course…

…he kinda ruined the moment.

Furihata’s hand jolted with its own life and, without thinking, he took a picture. At the shuttering of the camera, seven heads snapped at him, in an instant. Furihata gulped, his cheeks heating up with guilty, _“H-Hey guys. I, hum, I’m s-sorry… I just… took a p-picture on a whim…”_

Midorima and Aomine immediately jumped out of the hug, and looked sideways. Midorima coughed, Aomine rubbed the back of his neck, and both of them had a bit of blush on their cheeks. Momoi and Kise ran to Furihata’s side, asking him to send the picture to them. Their eyes were suspiciously red, but they were laughing too. Kuroko also walked towards him, asking the same thing, his blues eyes watery.

As Furihata was sending the photo to Kise, Momoi and Kuroko, he stole a glance at Akashi’s direction. In that moment, Murasakibara had given a last pad to his former captain’s head, before proceeding to eat a maiubo, and Akashi looked at the taller boy with an amused expression. Then, almost as if sensing Furihata’s stare, Akashi turned his face to him, and he smiled – not with his mouth, but with his eyes. That gaze – Furihata couldn’t describe it, so instead he burned it in his mind.

He wanted to remember that smile forever.

A sudden need to cry grew inside of him, but he held back his tears, and also smiled. _Yes,_ he thought. _Everything will be alright._

 _“I apologize, Furihata-kun,”_ Kuroko said on the following Monday, at the school rooftop, after Fukuda and Kawahara had gone downstairs to buy juices for them all.

 _“Hum? For what?”_ Furihata asked, confused.

A wrinkle appeared on Kuroko’s brow. _“I did realize something happened with Akashi-kun during the match against Jabberwock… though I didn’t know exactly what.”_ A self-depreciative smile surfaced on Kuroko’s mouth, _“But afterward, when Kagami-kun made his decision… I couldn’t think of anyone but myself. Things must have been hard for you two… I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”_

 _“Kuroko,”_ Furihata uttered. _“N-No, look. At that time, Sei was in shock, and… still processing everything. And you know how he is: always trying to shoulder everything by himself.”_ His expression saddened for a brief moment, and then softened, _“But he’s learning to rely on the others, a little more, now.”_ Furihata put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. _“Besides, you were dealing with your own problems. So don’t worry about it, okay?”_

Kuroko sighed, but his lips quirked a little bit. _“Akashi-kun said something similar.”_

Furihata smiled. _“And by the way, how is Kagami doing there?”_

_“Kagami-kun is fine. He’s even saying he’s eating better.”_

_“Why’s that?”_ Furihata asked, tilting his head. _“He didn’t like Japanese food?”_

 _“No, he does,”_ his friend clarified, features blank. _“It’s just that food portions are bigger in America.”_

At that, Furihata burst out laughing, _“That’s just like Kagami.”_

 _“Just like Kagami-kun,”_ Kuroko nodded, agreeing, fondness crossing his features.

Furihata closed the box of his bento, and wrapped the handkerchief around it. _“Ne, Kuroko.”_ The other boy looked at him. _“Hum, I-I’m not gonna lie… a long-distance relationship can be tough,”_ and Furihata smiled, _“But it’s you two. I’m sure you will be fine.”_

Blue eyes blinked at him, and wrinkled. _“Thank you, Furihata-kun. If we can work on this like you and Akashi-kun… I don’t think we’ll have to worry.”_

Red covered Furihata’s face, as he glanced at his bento again. _“T-Thanks, Kuroko.”_

_“And Furihata-kun?”_

_“Hum?”_

_“Akashi-kun will be okay. He has you… and you two can count on all of us.”_

Furihata’s throat suddenly tightened, but he smiled.

_“Y-Yes. Thanks again, Kuroko.”_

Another month had passed, and the smile Akashi showed to him on that day – Furihata still carries it with himself, even now.

_Sei, you are not alone. And it’s not just me. There are… so many people that care about you._

Furihata watches, as a drizzle of leaves falls on them. Akashi is standing some meters ahead of him, and seems to mix with the scenery. There are other colors that paint the landscape, but red is the one that stands out, and it is everywhere: hanging on the branches of the trees, floating in the air. Resting on the ground.

_And your brother…_

_…He is a part of you. This won’t change, no matter what happens._

“Kouki?”

Furihata snaps out of his reverie and rushes to his side. “S-Sorry,” he says, when he gets closer to Akashi. “I got distracted. This place… is just so beautiful.”

“It is,” Akashi agrees, observing the maple trees. “I came here at Obon, but this place is even more beautiful in the fall.” He turns his gaze to Furihata. “Shall we go– oh, wait a second, Kouki.” He stretches out his hand, and Furihata feels a tender brush on his hair. Akashi draws his hand back, a brown leaf in between his fingers. “I almost didn’t see it. It has the same color of your hair.”

Akashi tucks the leaf inside of his coat’s pocket, in a careful gesture. Blush tingles in Furihata’s cheeks. “W-Why will you keep it?”

“I’ll make a bookmark with it.”

Of course, Furihata notices that Akashi answered the question of _what_ he would do with the leaf, not _why_ he took it. But in a way, Furihata already knows the reason; the flush in his face deepens, and he swallows. They proceed to walk again.

“…I-I’ll get a red one for me, too,” he murmurs to himself, almost pouting, and a bit flustered.

But Akashi hears him anyway, and his boyfriend chuckles. “If a leaf falls on my head,” Akashi promises, half-teasingly, “It’s all yours.”

“You’re really unfair, you know,” Furihata grumbles, as he narrows his eyes at Akashi, who laughs again. And Furihata ends up laughing, too, despite himself.

They walk through the rest of that path and climb another set of stone stairs, until the cemetery gate comes in their view. Close to the entrance and to a string of red-bibbed Jizos statues, there’s a stall, from where they borrow a bucket and a ladle. Akashi asks Furihata to hold his bouquet, and he fills the bucket with water from a near tap.

The Akashi family grave is located in an older part of the cemetery. They stop before the last grave to the left, made of marble, almost touched by the shadow of a maple tree. Their hands remove the leaves from the grave. Then, pouring water on the rags they brought with them, Akashi and Furihata scrub the tombstone. After the cleaning is done, the flowers are put in the vases, and the lighted up incense stickers are placed in the holder. With the ladle, Akashi drops some water over the top of the grave, and he and Furihata clasp their hands, shutting their eyes.

The smoke of the burning incense reaches his nose and climbs even higher, trying to touch the sky, and Furihata hopes it can also carry his words over to Akashi’s mother. He doesn’t know for how long he prays. When he finishes it, he gives a bow and looks up, following the smoke’s steps with his eyes. His heart is full, so full that it hurts. Furihata averts his gaze from the sky, and finds Akashi staring at him.

“When you were praying before the butsudan… you took a while, too.” Akashi smiles. “If I may ask… what did you say to her?”

The question takes him by surprise. There’s a stretch of silence before Furihata can find his voice, among all the emotions that run through his body.

“I said… _‘Nice to meet you.’_ _‘Thank you’,_ and…” The words come out of his mouth, slowly, “…that I’m sure she is proud of you.” His lips curl in a smile. “B-Because… you’ve worked so hard, Sei. You’ve done your best, all this time. And your heart… is strong, so much stronger than you think.”

His voice cracks slightly.

“I-I promised her… that I will support you. I will be by your side, for as long as you will have me. Because I…”

And Furihata finally says it out loud, the words he has repeated in his heart for so long:

“…I love you.”

-

_Brother…_

_You said you shouldn’t have been born, but this can’t be true._

_Everything that had happened, and the fact you existed – surely, there must be a meaning._

_At least, that’s what I believe. After all, it’s because you were there for me… that I am able to be here now, today._

_I’m glad that you were born. I’m glad… that you are my brother._

_I miss you._

_And it still hurts._

_Say, we hear that “time heals everything,” but that’s not the whole truth, is it? No matter what happens, either good or bad, time keeps passing, and doesn’t turn back. Another day comes, and we live it._

_But with each new day, we are reminded of the bonds we have… and that there may be other words, memories, dreams… and promises, however small, or big, they are. That’s what makes us moving forward._

_Brother, I wonder… what kind of ‘future’ did you see?_

_Is it the same future that I am seeing now?_

_Are you still seeing it, through our eyes?_

“W-Well. That’s it,” Furihata says, a hue of red covering his cheeks, and he glances away. “A-And you, S-Seijuurou? What did you s-say to your mother?”

And once more, Akashi hears words that he has never imagined that would be directed at him; _you did your best_. Even when he had achieved perfectness in something, that was the bare minimum to hold the Akashi name, in his father’s eyes. And no one else had said those words to him, too; maybe they thought it wasn’t necessary. If Akashi was honest, hearing such words had simply never occurred to him, either.

To have someone acknowledge your efforts – he didn’t know it would feel like this.

That everything mattered. Even if you didn’t know the result, even if you didn’t know the answers yet.

And then, to hear, above all, those three words…

Akashi knew Furihata loved him. They had never told that to each other, but Akashi could see it in Furihata’s eyes, read it in between the lines of his texts, feel it in the width of a hug. Still, that knowledge didn’t prepare him for the effect of hearing those words being said out loud.

Like those words were being written inside of him, so real, and as real as a heartbeat. And he…

…he has never felt more alive.

Akashi can’t trust his voice. And yet, he steps towards Furihata, as he answers, “I said, _‘Sorry for worrying you.’ ‘Thank you for watching over me,’_ and… _‘I’m okay now.’_ ” He reaches for Furihata’s face, his fingertips brushing the other’s jawline. “And I said that you’re Furihata Kouki. And that you…”

_Thank you for everything, brother._

“You probably… have no idea. How much you’ve given me. How your courage, your kindness… have given me strength.”

Furihata’s face grows hotter, and tiny drops escape from his eyes, still downcast. “I-I couldn’t do much for you–”

“You did. You _do_.” He cups Furihata’s face in both of his hands. “I want to do the same for you. And I want... to be with you. For a long, long time. Is that okay?”

More tears threaten to fall. Furihata presses his lips even tighter, putting a hand above Akashi’s, and he nods.

_I will keep doing my best, so please, don’t worry._

Akashi wipes his tears. “Kouki,” he says. “Please, look at me.”

Finally, Furihata lifts his gaze. The light of those brown eyes draws him in, like always, like a beacon. Akashi presses their foreheads together.

_And with this person…_

He says, then. Four words, which carry all the promises.

_…I walk to tomorrow._

“I love you too.”


End file.
